


Twists of Faith

by pan_dora



Series: Justifiable [6]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Stiles Stilinski, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, Logismoi, M/M, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Pack Dynamics, Pack Politics, RMS Queen Mary, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Content, Steo, Stilinski Pack, Violence, Wolf Pack, Zoroastrianism, canon divergence - post season 5b, haunted location, haunted ship, justifiable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-03-25 06:15:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 40,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13828239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pan_dora/pseuds/pan_dora
Summary: It was supposed to be a fun little adventure on the RMS Queen Mary. Mason had bugged him for a while, and Stiles decided that it couldn't hurt. Hoping to rekindle his friendship with Scott, he asked him to accompany Mason, Liam, Corey and him to go ghost hunting.Things didn't go as planned. In the middle of the night, Rafael McCall knocked on the door of their suite demanding help in a case. But it soon turned out that working with the FBI was easy pickings. The bigger and far more dangerous problem was the pack living in Long Beach. Stiles knew shit was going to hit the fan as soon as Brett had called him to tell him to be not only careful but stay out of the Long Beach's pack's way. He heeded the advice but between an escalating serial killer and a bloodthirsty pack, things turn from bad to worse very quick.





	1. Chapter 1

 

 

> "Now you play a pretty good fiddle, boy,
> 
> but give the Devil his due
> 
> I'll bet a fiddle of gold against your soul
> 
> cause I think I'm better than you."
> 
> \- Charlie Daniels Band

 

“I have to go,” Stiles muttered between kisses; the type of kisses that would quickly lead to something else if he were in the right mindset for it. He put his hands on Theo’s shoulder to gently push the chimera away, but he was having none of it. His arms tightened around his waist, and instead of giving Stiles any space, he pulled him closer while simultaneously cornering him between the wall and his bedroom door. “Theo,” Stiles managed to mutter. If they weren’t in a time crunch anyway, he wouldn’t even stress so much.

“This is too early,” Theo eventually said. His mouth was just far enough away that he could talk, but Stiles felt the movements of his lips against his own.

“The doctors gave the ok,” he reminded him, then added, “I’m fine.”

“Your dad doesn’t like it either.”

“My dad isn’t in the position to tell me what to do.”

Theo pulled a little away, frowning at him. His fingers slipped into the pockets of his jeans cupping his ass. “You’re home for barely a week.” Theo kissed him again, and Stiles opened his mouth eagerly ignoring the fact that he should get ready to leave. Instead he wrapped his arms around Theo’s shoulders trying not to give any attention to the slight ache in his chest from the movement. But then Theo stepped even closer, and his keys pressed against his thigh.

Stiles broke the kiss. “I really have to leave now.”

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Theo reminded him making no intention to release him from the corner he had him trapped in.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “We talked about this.”

“You’ve been kidnapped,” Theo remarked beginning to list all the things he hated about the whole situation. “You almost died. Your ribs aren’t properly healed yet. Your void is basically non-existent and-“ He took a deep breath before coming to his grand finale, “the last time you’ve been in a haunted place things turned extremely bad.”

Stiles ran his fingers through Theo’s hair. “We don’t bring an Ouija Board,” he said drawing a figure eight on the back of his head. “And, if something goes wrong, we immediately leave. I promise. No risk taking.”

Theo didn’t look convinced, but he stepped away eventually. “If he says no-“

“I’ll pick you up,” Stiles replied smiling. “It’s a day. I’m back tomorrow afternoon.”

Theo nodded. “I know. It’s just-“

“I know. I’m fine.” Stiles made time for one last kiss. Theo had barely left his side the last two weeks. Neither at the hospital nor at home. He had even scheduled his therapy sessions via Skype; and that was okay. It was perfectly fine. The whole pack was on guard, and even Jordan and John had basically moved in so that neither Isaac nor Stiles had a chance to be alone. They understood and appreciated the sentiment, but they all needed to go back to their normal lives or it would drive them completely insane.

 

“Stiles?!”

“Can I, uhm, come in, maybe?”

“Honey, you're always welcome here.” Melissa stepped aside with a warm smile. “Scott and I are in the kitchen.”

Stiles shoved his hands deep in the pockets of his hoodie. He’s never felt this uncomfortable in the McCall household before. It was stupid, of course, but still... with Scott and his current relationship it didn’t come exactly as a surprise. These four walls had felt like home once, now it was the house of a stranger.

Scott was startled as they entered the room. In a frenzy, he dropped his spoon into the soup and ignored the mess it made. “Stiles,” he gasped staring from him to his mother and back again, “are you okay? What happened?” Even being as broken as they were now, Scott was still ready to stop everything to help him.

“I’m fine,” he said raising a hand. His other curled tightly around the piece of paper hidden in the pocket of his hoodie.

“Would you like to eat something?” Melissa asked pointing first at Scott, then the table.

Stiles shook his head, unable to prevent his lips from twitching into a small smile as Scott trotted to the kitchen counter to grab an obscure amount of paper towels for the bit of soup that happened to get on the table. “No, thanks.” Stiles rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m actually on the hop, but I wanted to talk to Scott for a sec.”

“To me?” Scott sounded astonished.

“Do you want me to leave you guys alone.”

“That’s not- no.” God, why was he feeling so weird? He was talking to Scott and Melissa. It shouldn’t be this hard. “Do you remember the list we’ve written years ago?” Stiles asked deciding to just go for it. After all, this had never been something they had made a secret out of. It’s not embarrassing. His dad and Melissa had loved the idea of them travelling after a school. Also, what's the worst that could happen? Scott would either agree or decline, and he'd have to accept either answer. Stiles couldn’t even tell if he was going to be disappointed. It’s just an idea he had in his head and decided to act on for the sake of them growing up with each other. In memoriam of their past, so to speak.

“The list of places we wanted to visit when we're grown-ups?” Scott asked using air-quotes around the last word. “I haven’t seen that in ages, but yeah, I remember. Why?” He scrubbed the table unnecessarily long with the paper towels.

Melissa raised her brows.

Stiles pulled the list out of his hoodie and put it on the table beside Scott’s bowl of soup. “I found it. It was in the sports bag I always used for my dancing lessons.” The bag in which he had hidden the USB stick, and which he then hid in the bottom most drawer of his dresser behind his clothes and underneath a fricking blanket. So, how his dad had, quote unquote, ‘stumbled upon it’ was still a miracle to him.

Scott stopped scrubbing the table and took the worn piece of paper. A small smile appeared on his lips as he read the names of places they had written down. It were a lot. New Zealand, Australia, Paris, London as well as tons of abandoned and haunted places in the US. When they were ten, they had tried to map out a haunted road trip. It needed some work, but Stiles’ research skills back then had already been formidable. He just didn’t take into account a few things. “I don’t remember No. 14 circled,” Scott said then waving the list around. “What's up with that?”

Stiles licked his lips, then pulled an envelope out of the back pocket of his jeans. Scott raised a brow, hesitantly taking it after Melissa urged him to by waving her hand. She was beaming. At least one of them enjoyed this situation. Because Stiles had no idea what he was feeling currently, and Scott looked more bemused than happy.

“We have a free seat in the car,” Stiles explained as Scott’s eyes widened in surprise at the booking confirmation. “And you probably have to sleep on the couch or the floor because I get the bed, of course, and Mason has called dips on the second one. But, uhm, if you-“ His enthusiasm lessened a little since Scott was still staring at the confirmation of reservation. “If you, like, don't have anything to do tonight and are up for a bit of ghost hunting-“

Scott looked up finally. “You want me to come?” There was something like carefully masked excitement in his voice. He should know that he couldn’t hide something like that from his former best friend.

Stiles nodded knowing he had already convinced him.

“What about Theo?”

“He’s not coming,” Stiles replied pushing his hands in the pockets of his hoodie again. “I know you two don't like each other, and... I wanted to apologise for being an asshole and say thanks that you visited me at the hospital anyway.”

Scott’s fingers tightened just the smallest bit, scrunching up the papers. “I wasn't completely innocent either,” he muttered without looking at him.

Stiles took a deep breath and ran a hand over his face. “I’m not quite- I need time, still.” His voice was quiet, and he kept his attention focused on something above Melissa's head. “But I-, I want to- oh god, I’m so bad at this.”

“That’s nothing new,” Scott chuckled. For some reason, the joke irked him. Perhaps because it came from Scott, who wasn’t exactly in the position to make any kind of quips about his quirks. Or maybe he just was in a weird mood, and that’s why his comment came off the wrong way. “But I know what you mean.” He folded the booking confirmation and pushed it back into the envelope. “But if you really want to, I’d join.”

 _If you really want me to join_. He wouldn’t fucking offer if he didn’t want Scott to come. But perhaps this wasn’t the best answer he should give him right now. “I'd like that.”

Scott grinned at him, happy and excited and oh-so _Scott_. The way he used to grin at him when everything had been fine between them. A moment later, he rushed out of the kitchen and up the stairs like a little kid about to go to Disney World. Stiles really hoped he wasn’t making a mistake, although he couldn’t quite ignore the weird, almost dreadful feeling pooling in his gut.

 

“Oh my god,” Mason gasped staring at the giant ship with wide eyes. “I feel like I’m in Titanic.”

Stiles flicked the underside of his chin. “Behave normal for once.”

“But this is _so_ exciting.” Mason moved his feet like he was about to perform a little dance on the spot, then decided against it and instead rummaged through his backpack for something. Given the short but intense history he had with haunted places, it was most likely reasonable to be at least a little concerned about his excitement. Although Theo checked _all_ their backpacks before departure with Lydia standing guard, arms crossed and expression determined, it wasn’t completely absurd to think Mason might have snuck something past them.

As Stiles made to grab his rucksack from the trunk, Liam snatched it right out of his hands. “I’ll carry that.”

“What?” Stiles asked glancing at Corey who simply shrugged and then turned to watch his boyfriend growing marginally more frantic as he did not immediately find whatever he was searching for. “Why?” Stiles added belatedly frowning at Liam.

“Because, you know-“ The young werewolf gestured in the direction of his general chest area. “You need to heal and stuff.”

“Liam, I’m fi-“

“Aha!” Mason interrupted him suddenly producing a camera from his backpack. “I’m gonna vlog this.” Excitedly, he held a camera up in everybody's face as if they weren’t able to see it otherwise.

“Are you fucking-“ Stiles massaged the bridge of his nose. For some reason, he got the peculiar feeling that there were twelve exhausting hours ahead of him. “I probably should have warned you,” he said then turning slightly in the direction of Scott, “and told you that Mason’s is completely insane when it comes down to ghosts.” He allowed an almost sheepish grin to slip on his lips.

Scott looked more amused than surprised. “That’s the guy who researched kitsunes for a whole night without actually knowing any of us that well. In that aspect, he’s a little bit like you.”

“Excuse me?” Another quip. As if everything was okay. As if Scott actually knew the person Stiles had become. Well, perhaps he was a little unfair and rash in this regard, and maybe it was he who needed to stop tiptoeing around him. Still, somehow he didn’t feel quite ready with them being on a basis where they were comfortable enough to bicker.

Scott cleared his throat. “Your Yoda, I will be.”

“Oh, shut up.” Shaking his head, Stiles turned around to beckon for his backpack. Liam pulled a face. This was so over the top, Stiles wouldn’t be surprised if Theo had set him up to it. But he really didn’t have the nerve to deal with being made a fuss over. Yes, his ribs felt sore, and no, he couldn’t exactly throw his hands up in the air, but he was absolutely capable of carrying his own bloody backpack – especially since there was basically _nothing_ in there aside from the necessary toiletries as well as a second set of clothes and his charger. What else would you need for one night? It’s not like he was carrying bricks around. “Liam,” Stiles insisted as the werewolf curled his fingers a little tighter around the straps of the backpack.

Mason glanced over his camera. “Just let him carry the damn thing if he wants it so badly.”

“Well, I’m _fine_ ,” Stiles remarked sharply. “I don’t need to be babied the whole trip.”

“I just thought,” Liam trailed off gesturing at his chest again. “I just thought it might hurt, you know? When it’s-“ He pulled a face, then shrugged and offered the backpack to Stiles. It was nice, of course, it was, and he probably shouldn’t have been so harsh to Liam, but the guy needed to learn not to feel responsible for everything. He still struggled to accept that nothing that had happened with the Churel was actually his fault. If anything, Isaac should blame himself for resisting her charms; because that had been the reason they had ended up in this position in the first place. But since that was just as stupid, nobody was at fault – aside from himself sucking as an alpha, probably.

“Do we have everything?” Stiles asked looking around at the people with him. Liam demonstratively tugged at his own backpack, Scott simply nodded while Corey was giving him the thumbs up. Mason, as expected, was already too invested in filming the ship and didn’t give a reply. Rolling his eyes, Stiles raised his arm to close the trunk of the car. Pain shot through his chest, which he did not let anybody see. Liam’s smug face was the last thing he needed to be confronted with. When he was done, he forwarded his keys as well as a five dollar note to the young man – Stiles assumed he was their age, maybe one or two years older – waiting to park the car. Thank god, he had decided to take Lydia and his car, Theo would’ve ripped him a new one if he heard that Stiles gave his precious vehicle in the hands of a stranger.

“Thank you,” college boy said with his toothpaste commercial smile. “Have a wonderful stay.”

“Thanks,” Stiles and Scott uttered in unison. For a moment, they grinned at each other and everything seemed perfectly normal, but then Stiles moved forward and found himself at Liam’s side with Scott trailing behind them. “On a scale of one to Devil’s Gate, how terrified are you?” He asked ignoring Mason who turned around with his camera cackling diabolically.

Liam flipped his best friend off. “That thing’s too epic to be afraid.”

“Famous last words,” Corey commented amused. It’s nice to see him finally getting comfortable enough around all of them to be joking around, although he still turned out to be the quietest of the three Juniors. Which couldn’t exactly be described as bad. If there would be another one like Mason or Liam, Stiles would hang his alpha role up and call it a day.

“He’s going to shit his pants by the end of the night,” Mason agreed laughing so whole-heartedly that the man greeting them couldn’t help himself but chuckle as well. “Are you going to hold Stiles’ hand again?” He cackled devilishly and dashed to the lift as soon as Liam made a move to hunt him. Corey shook his head but followed them quickly.

Scott walked over to them while Stiles was slowing down and turned around to look at the displays opposite the lifts. Upcoming events were announced there but none of them really caught his interest. But for some reason, he felt saver over here than near the lifts – and as a _ding_ announced its arrival, he had to roll his shoulders to keep them from tensing up. The doors slid open just loud enough that Stiles picked up on it. He rubbed the back of his neck and licked his lips.

“Yo, Stiles,” Liam called. “You coming?”

“I’m- I’m going to call Theo,” he said turning around and waving his phone. “You go get the key to our room.”

The four looked at each other for a few moments. As Mason moved, he bumped shoulders with Corey. Scott was leaning against the wall of the lift, yet Liam still happened to stay close. The lift looked pretty full with four people and their backpacks. “We can wait,” Scott offered reaching out to stop the doors from closing. The thought of being in there with four other people, unable to get out – it didn’t sit well with him. Not at all.

Stiles shook his head. “No.” With a small smile, he scrolled through his contacts until he found Theo’s number. “It’s fine.”

The four were looking at each other again, but didn’t disagree a second time. “We’ll wait in the foyer!” Mason called waving a little too frantically. It seemed like he didn’t quite buy the whole phone call excuse but had decided to go with it. Liam was squinting at his best friend, who was still waving since the doors decided to take half an eternity to close for a second time masking the whole encounter considerably awkward.

As they finally had closed firmly, Stiles let out a sigh of relief. His gaze locked onto the door to the stairwell. It was opened fully, and an elderly couple walked out conversing in a language he didn’t understand but assumed to be Russian, perhaps, or something similar sounding. It seemed like he wasn’t the only one disliking the lift. That felt a lot, well, better. Although he shouldn’t be embarrassed about wanting to use the stairs. Lifts were kind of an awkward zone anyway, and he was about to spend the whole night in a hotel room with the four guys. It was perfectly fine for him not to want to be wedged in a tiny lift with more than one person – especially when he couldn’t get out on his own accord. Like, who really was a fan of lifts? Nobody, right?

The enervating dial tone was cut off so quick, Stiles was sure his darling boyfriend had been staring at the phone waiting for him to make the call. “Hey.” The smile in Theo’s voice carried so clearly through the phone, Stiles could see it in front of his inner eye.

For a moment, he allowed himself to relax at his voice. Then he scolded himself. Seriously. They had seen each other like five hours ago. This was just childish. Still, he couldn’t help himself. It was reminiscent of safety. For some reason. “We arrived,” Stiles said turning as if to look at the ship, but from where he was standing he couldn’t see anything. Because there were displays he had looked at seconds ago.

 _Great_.

“How’s it looking?”

“Pretty majestic,” Stiles replied making his way towards the stairwell. “Or to put it in Liam’s words ‘it’s too epic to be afraid’.”

Theo snorted. “He’ll be crapping his pants as soon as you’re in your room.”

“Most likely.” Stiles evaded two little kids chasing each other down the stairs. “Especially since I managed to get one of the scarier rooms in the whole ship.”

“You’re a terrible alpha.”

“You know it.” He glanced over his shoulder, watching the kids run in a small circle before they, laughing loudly, dashed back up the stairs. “Apropos alpha, how’s Isaac handling everything?” The beta had been less then thrilled as Stiles had announced he would have to watch the responsible part of the pack plus Theo for a night. Not that it actually included a lot of watching. Lydia was on a date with Jackson, Kira was the last person anybody had to worry about, and Theo most likely wouldn’t be a problem either since he intended to complete his essay for English Lit.

Something crinkled. Something that suspiciously sounded like a bag of either crackers or crisps. “Kira and he invited Brett over for movie night or something. I don’t know,” Theo replied, and Stiles heard the familiar clicking of his laptop's keyboard. “I guess I’ll just stay in my room avoiding them.”

“You could also go and apologise for your behaviour,” Stiles suggested leaving the staircase and finally arriving on the bridge leading to the ship. Watching it from here was hardly any less breath taking. That ship was seriously amazing- and gigantic. He’d so get lost at least once tonight.

Theo let out a long breath. “That is certainly a possibility.”

“But you’re not going to do it.”

“Absolutely not,” Theo agreed.

Liam was pointing at something in the foyer tugging Mason along. Stiles really wondered how long it would take until his mood completely plummeted, and he was going to be absolutely horrified by everything he saw. “I would be really _grateful_ if you said sorry.”

Theo groaned quietly. “Don’t even try.”

“Because it works?”

“Go ghost hunting, _babe_.”

 

A sense of relief washed over him, as Stiles finally entered their room. He hated the narrow hallways. Liam, however, began to show the first signs of being spooked out. He was twitchy and refused to stay more than an arm’s length away from any person in the room. Although he had been the one to want to stay on B Deck since it is the most haunted floor – including but not limited to the infamous room B340 which had been closed because of too many complaints. But on such short notice, there weren’t any free rooms down there. But since someone cancelled their reservation, Stiles had managed to get a suite on Main Deck. Thankfully, the rooms were creepy enough to give them an experience. Nobody of them wanted to set foot into the maiden’s quarter next to the entrance to the suite, much less sleep in it. The living room was old but less scary. It was the same for the bedroom. Luckily, the bed was big enough that all five of them could squeeze into it. But Scott had decided to sleep in the living room.     

“We have two bedrooms and a two bathrooms,” Liam announced dropping onto the bed next to Stiles. “This is insane.” No, this was just arrogance and a waste of money. Because, oh boy, imagine to have to go on the same toilet as your maid. The horror. Rich people. _Seriously._

Mason continued to curiously walk around the bedroom pointing his camera at this and that thing. “How about a little history lesson?” He turned towards the bed looking through his viewfinder at Stiles instead of doing so directly.

Stiles raised his brows, fingers twitching to grab the pillow to his right. He didn't exactly like to be filmed, but he decided not to say anything. “Okay.” Stiles scratched the side of his nose. “First it was a cruiser, than a transport vessel. It broke a ship. Lots of deaths. Now it’s a haunted hotel.”

Mason lowered the camera to frown at him. “Wow.”

“You wanted it short.”

“You dive right into exposition mode anyway,” Liam remarked flopping onto his back.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “If I do that, we have to extend our stay.”

Corey chuckled quietly. “It’s-“ A _thump_ from the other room interrupted him. It was loud enough to raise concern.

“Scott?” Mason asked. “Are you okay?”

They heard shuffling, a moment later, Scott’s peeking in. He had spent a lot more time than strictly necessary to bring the bedding from the maiden’s room in the living room to set up the couch. But Stiles had decided to let him do his thing. He had made the first step, but he wasn’t going to do all the work on his own. If Scott was interested in starting over new- _ish_ , then please, now it’s his turn to make a move. “No,” Scott replied jutting his thump over his shoulder, “I think that came from the other suite.”

Stiles raised to his feet. “Did you hear anything else? Is anybody hurt?” As he moved past him, Scott simply shrugged. Rolling his eyes, Stiles got onto the couch and pressed his ear against the thin wall. It’s a terrible place for couples, that’s for sure – well, at least for those who’d like to have a little fun in a haunted place. But the other room greeted him with silence. Stiles knocked against the wooden panels. “Hello?” He called then a little louder. “Are you okay? We hurt a loud _thud_ and we’re wondering-“ He frowned as not a single sound came in-between his words. No movements. No clearing of throats. No beginning of an explanation. “Hello?” He turned away and beckoned Liam over. “Do you hear anything? Heartbeats, breathing? Anything?”

Everyone was quiet for a moment. Mason still had the camera pointed at them. It was considerably weird to be filmed outside of the dancing routines, in all honesty. His mother had used to walk around with a camera on birthdays or Thanksgiving or Christmas or any other special day which could be found on a calendar. But being filmed just like that was _odd_ – and Stiles was painfully aware of the camera pointed at him.

“No,” Liam said making him flinch. “It’s completely silent.”

Stiles glanced at the latch. When they had first entered the room, he hadn’t felt very comfortable that the suites could be entered this easily but had been relieved after finding out that this suite seemed to be the only access point. Now, he was glad they could enter without any problem. He made a grab for the latch.

Corey grabbed his wrist. “What are you doing?”

“We have to check what happened,” Stiles insisted freeing his hand and opened the latch.

“We could also call the reception,” Liam suggested.

“Yeah, you do that.” It took a bit of strength to open the two panels, which seemed stuck from misuse rather than because the hotel intended to keep the panels fully locked. His chest wasn’t all too happy about the movement. “I’ll see if I can help.” He didn’t need to look at Liam to know he was already becoming anxious again. Someone shuffled around behind him. It was Mason. “Or it’s ghosts.”

Mason lowered the camera and looked at him. His eyes widened, and his whole expression lit up. “Open it.”

“ _Stiles_ ,” Liam complained.

He flashed him a quick grin, then pulled at the panels. With a small scraping sound, they gave way. Mason helped him opening them up further. The adjacent suite was completely dark. They could only see as far as the light of their own room reached. Which wasn’t very far. “Hello?” Stiles asked again. Although he was hardened from past experiences, something about the silence answering him creeped him out. He understood where Liam’s fear came from. Something about the unknown, the endless question: was or wasn’t it haunted? Was the wood creaking? Was it the wind who moved that door? That’s what’s freaking you out. “Liam.” Stiles turned to beckon the werewolf over again. “Look in there. Do you see something?”

Scott watched the whole thing from the side line. Corey leaned over Mason’s shoulder to look into the room as well. Right. He could probably see better in the dark as well.

“I don’t see anything,” Liam whispered.

Corey shook his head. “There’s nothing in there.”

Stiles furrowed his brows. “Maybe in the bathroom.” Without further hesitation, he clambered over the backrest of the couch and dropped into the room.

“Oh my-“ Liam uttered in a more higher pitched voice than usual. “Theo’s going to murder you.”

Stiles shook his head. Of course, he had promised Theo to leave immediately in case of something weird or dangerous happening, but this was neither. It was nothing more than a thud with no visible source. Also, he had told him to go ghost hunting. “Hello?” He asked again. “Is anybody in here?” He glanced over his shoulder as Mason was making his way over the sofa as well. Stiles pulled out his phone to use as a torch. The room was, just like Liam had said, completely empty. There was nobody in here. He couldn’t even spot suitcases or backpacks, nothing that would indicate the room was booked in the first place. Furthermore, nothing seemed out of place either. The only thing that _could_ have been the source of the sound was the door that was half-opened. But it might have very well been like that anyway.

“Do you see anything?”

Mason shook his head watching the viewfinder of his camera like a hawk. “Can we, like, make it talk to us or react or something?”

Stiles furrowed his brows. “How?” He rubbed the back of his neck, glanced over his shoulder again to see the other three looking around the room from the safety of their own suite.

“Ask it to do something.”

“Why _me_?” Stiles asked glaring at the younger, who had the camera pointed at him again.

Mason shrugged. “You’re already talking to it?”

Stiles shifted his weight from one foot to the other. It’s not that he was terrified or scared. He didn’t feel entirely comfortable about the whole situation. Ghost hunting was one thing, actively trying to communicate with them something entirely else; and after Pasadena he couldn’t quite- nervous energy prickled down his spine. He was probably overreacting. They had been screwing around with an Ouija Board. Now, it’s not like he was essentially offering to be possessed, right? But after having been possessed by a vengeful spirit, he was a bit more careful when it came down to screwing around with these things. “Can you, uh-“

“Can we maybe eat before we’re going to talk to the spirits of the afterlife?” Liam interrupted. “I’m seriously hungry.”

Mason snorted, but he lowered his camera. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

Stiles shoved his phone back in the pocket of his jeans.

 

“So,” Scott said eventually, “you and Theo…”

They were both sitting in the living room. Mason’s camera had been propped up on the table underneath the bull glass recording with night vision. On the table in front of them was an audio recorder. Before they ventured to get a bit of sleep until three a.m., Mason had reminded them not to whisper so they wouldn’t get confused about who was talking in case of them catching an EVP. The guy meant business. When he went ghost hunting, he left nothing to chance. Stiles had curled onto the chair beside the camera to keep outside of its vision and to let Scott sleep if he wanted to. He’d downloaded an eBook to pass the time, already regretting not to have brought a physical one since he wasn’t the best sleeper anyway, and it had gotten worse since the incident.

As Scott interrupted the silence, Stiles didn’t even stop his reading. “What about me and Theo?” He couldn’t believe that was the topic Scott decided to start with the first time they spent time alone together on this trip.

Scott cleared his throat. “Well,” he muttered, then remembered that he wasn’t supposed to speak quietly and continued louder, “you’re serious.”

It was hard to tell how to interpret this statement intonated like a question. Although he wanted to give Scott the benefit of the doubt, somehow he couldn’t rid himself of the possibility that his sanity was questioned. It irked him. His grip around his phone tightened slightly. He raised it a little higher to his face; skin taught over his knuckles. “What?” Stiles asked trying to keep his focus on the story he was reading, but the words started to make less and less sense now that Scott demanded his attention.  

The couch creaked quietly as Scott moved around. “I meant your relationship,” he clarified then. The way his tone stayed carefully even was furiously obvious. “Are you guys serious?” The question sounded too stiff for a casual discussion.

Stiles knew his honesty would hurt Scott. Part of him didn’t care. Another part of him would rather continue this conversation when they didn’t have a five hour drive in a small car ahead of them, additionally to the time they had to spend together on this ship. “Is that really what you want to do right now?” Stiles asked still not looking up from his phone. “Pester me about my relationship?” It came of sharper than intended, but he didn’t do anything to take the tension out of the air.

“I’m just curious.” His tone was unusually flat, monotone almost.

The silence was heavy around them. Stiles didn’t say anything. He had no idea what to say in the first place. Scott didn’t approve of the relationship. He hadn’t in the beginning, and he wouldn’t now. Being with Theo was a personal offence because Theo had hurt Scott in the past. It was nothing Stiles would ever condone. He had forgiven him for it, yes, but it wasn’t anything he’d be offhand about. Theo had come a long way since being imprisoned underground. He’s learning. Scott should see that. Lydia had seen that, and Theo had hurt her a lot more than he had him, in retrospect. He had driven her out of her mind. But, again, Scott was offended because Theo had attacked _him_. He had ruined _his_ pack. That’s why Deucalion was off the hook and allowed redemption.

Stiles tightened his jaw. _No_. He was here to give their friendship a second chance, not to get pissed off again.     

“Wow, this is new,” Scott said eventually sounding more perplexed than angry. “You punish with silence now. Did Theo teach you that?”

“There we go.” Stiles switched off his phone, plunging them into total darkness. The moon hid behind thick clouds, leaving no chance for its light to illuminate anything. The only source of light was the red dot on the camera, but that didn’t do anything to help see. “You know, I asked Theo to stay home to give our friendship a chance.” He fumbled for the audio recorder for a moment, then considered switching his phone on again to find it before deciding against it. _Fuck it_. Let anybody hear what he had to say. It’s not like he’s making a secret out of these thoughts. “This was supposed to be about us. Not him.” His pack knew why he had asked Scott to accompany them.

“He’s part of your pack.” Stiles glanced in the direction he knew Scott was in. _Part of your pack_ didn’t quite sum it up. While that was true, it hardly described what Theo really meant to him. “You’re dating him.” Now, he was getting closer. Stiles pressed his lips into a tight line, hating the fact that Scott could see him better than he did him. “I mean, how’s that going to work out?” _How can you be with my murderer?_

Stiles covered his face with his hands, squeezing his eyes shut. He wanted to be angry, however, the anger wouldn’t come. The meaning behind these words, although he was fully aware of it, seemed to seep into his consciousness. “Oh my _god_ ,” he whispered, lowering his hands again. For a second, the darkness was frightening. For the flicker of a heartbeat, he almost expected someone to be standing right in front of him. But the feeling faded away, leaving behind a prickling sensation. Stiles forced his attention to get back to the problem at hand. He wanted Scott back, and he didn’t want to lose Theo. But it seemed like he couldn’t have one as long as he had the other.

He had never expected Theo to be the bigger person.

“What?”

Stiles took a deep breath. “I did a lot of things I’m not proud of since I’m back in Beacon Hills,” he admitted curling his hands into tight fists. “And I never worked up the nerve to apologise because I was- I still am angry and disappointed about the things you did. But I realised the second you stepped in my hospital room that I miss you too much to live like this forever.” His emotions collided. He didn’t know if he was angry or sad or just fucking exhausted. He didn’t even know if he was really feeling anything. “When you’re dead for 23 minutes, you come to terms with a few things, and I thought: ‘I could’ve died without ever giving our friendship a second chance’. Don’t get me wrong-“ Stiles raised a hand as he heard Scott starting to speak. “I don’t want your pity. I don’t want you trying because you thought I played the victim.” Stiles ran his fingers through his hair rubbing the back of his head. His eyes glanced around the room. “Because I don’t play that card. This is me telling you something: our lives are too short for bullshit and lies, so I will be honest with you. I want to work through _our_ issues. I’m not here to beg you for giving Theo a second chance. I may be his alpha but first and foremost, I’m his partner, not his social worker.” He moved, stretched his legs and started jiggling his right. “If he wants to ask for your forgiveness, he can do it for himself. This trip, Scott, is about our friendship, about _us_ starting over. We barely spoke to each other when we were with the others, and the first time we're alone you bring up Theo and put me on the spot.” Stiles covered his eyes for a moment; his thumbs digging into his temples as if fighting a headache. The shadows made him twitchy when he should be focusing on what he was saying.

“I didn’t put-“

“Scott, shut the _fuck_ up,” Stiles interrupted him shaking his head. “I know we cannot go back to how things were before, but I’d like to have you back in my life. Theo isn’t part of the issues that brought us to where we are now, and I’m not part of the problems you have with him. If you cannot treat us as the separate individuals we are, or if us starting over is bound to a condition, then we’re going to end this right here. Maybe… maybe this-“ He gestured between the two of them and then around the room in general- “wasn’t the best idea. I just thought it would be easier to find common ground doing what our ten-year-old selves wanted to do. Perhaps, I was wrong. But I will be upfront with you, I’m with Theo. I don’t understand why it matters for us. I never blamed you for Allison’s actions or Kira’s, I guess, because we’re all old enough to make our own decisions. I’m not condoning anything Theo had done. I gave him a second chance like you had done with Deucalion. I just happened to fall in love with him. So, the point I’m trying to make is: If you issue an ultimatum on me, you are going to draw the short straw.”

Scott did not reply immediately, and Stiles couldn’t blame him. It was most likely a lot to take in after everything that had happened. But addressing it seemed like the only way to overcome the elephant in the room. Stiles wanted Scott back as his friend but not at any price. He had to draw his line. He had grown up, and he wasn’t desperate for approval anymore - not from Scott. His pack had made him alpha for a reason. His pack members’ opinions were what mattered the most to him. If Scott had a problem with him being in love with Theo, then Scott would need to carry this problem somewhere else.

A sudden knock at the door sounded like a gunshot, and Stiles flinched despite himself. After sorting through his thoughts for a second, he switched his phone’s torch on and crossed the room. Again someone rapped his knuckles against the wooden door. Stiles wondered if he had raised his voice unintentionally. But Liam, Corey and Mason would’ve woken up from it – unless they had and decided to stay completely out of it. As his fingers wrapped around the doorknob, he could feel tension creep up his spine. He had no idea who was on the other side of the door. Who even would be on the other side of someone’s door at half past two in the morning? It could only be someone who was bothered by too loud voices, right? Or maybe someone of the staff who had been ordered to come here and ask for silence and respect this early in the morning.

Stiles swallowed around a lump in his throat, then opened the door. The tension yielded confusion. “Rafael?” Scott’s big, important FBI father stood in the doorway, dressed in his tailored suit lacking a smile. There were deep shadows under his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

A sigh fell off his lips before he answered. “The FBI was called in for a case,” Rafael explained lowering his voice enough that nobody outside the room without supernatural hearing would understand what he was saying. “But I have the feeling this might be one for you, Stiles.” He didn’t make any inclination to enter the room. Instead he was leaning slightly against the doorframe.

Stiles wondered what he had seen. “Me?”

“Dad?” Scott appeared behind Stiles.

Rafael quickly nodded at his son, then continued to clarify why he appeared in a haunted ship in the middle of the freaking night to talk to him. “I’d like to go over the details at the police station, if you don’t mind.”

“The police- _what_?” Stiles shook his head totally confused at what in the world was just asked of him. “How did you even know I’m here?”

“I talked to your father,” Rafael replied like it’s completely normal because they had chats on a regular basis. “Your pack is on the way.” Stiles opened and closed his mouth, trying to come up with something to say but he was completely steamrolled. He’s not usually taking cases he hadn't reviewed before, and he certainly did not agree to have his pack drive down here without having agreed to help in the first place. “I also conversed with the lady downstairs. The suite is yours until the case is solved.”

With a groan, Stiles covered his face again. What was it with the McCalls taking everything for granted? “Consent is key, you know?”

Rafael blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Next time,” Stiles uttered annoyed, “ask me first. I’m not a callboy.”


	2. Chapter 2

“I’m not going to have this discussion with you again,” Stiles remarked walking up and down in the office Rafael had ushered them into. It was small but at least it had large windows all around the room to make up for its questionable size.

Mason pressed his hands together. “But-“

“You have school tomorrow!” Stiles reminded him sharply stopping right in front of the couch Liam, Corey and Mason were currently sitting on, backpacks between their legs or on their laps. None of them looked particularly happy about having to drive home after cutting their ghost adventure short. “I know your grades, and not one of you can allow yourself the luxury of skipping any classes.” He squinted at them, then shrugged. “Okay, Corey probably could. But do you hear him complain?” He gestured in the general direction of the chimera in their midst. If there had been any sort of complaint on his mind, it had surely vanished now.

“Our grades are not that bad,” Liam muttered into his backpack.

Stiles raised his brows. “Oh, so it was your doppelganger who’d gotten the D in the biology test although Theo studied with you?”

Liam pulled his shoulders up and slumped against the back of the couch. “No,” he said even quieter. Mr. Dunbar had asked Stiles and Lydia to keep an eye on Liam’s grades since he was hanging out so much at their place. They were perfectly fine with it, after all, school had been easy for them; even with missing as many classes as they had done because of all the supernatural shenanigans going on. So, Stiles would make sure Liam, Mason and Corey did not miss any classes, and he surely would not call their parents to ask them to take their children out of school. That was not part of their bargain.

“We were skipping school all the time,” Scott chimed in.

Stiles didn’t even turn around. “I’ve only written straight As, did you?” A thick fog of silence followed his statement. Mason, Corey and Liam exchanged a few quick glances. They had been fast asleep until Stiles had woken them up, and they didn’t have the time to check on the recording yet which meant that they didn’t know where the sudden tension between Scott and Stiles could come from. “Oh,” he added glancing over his shoulder, “right. You would’ve failed three classes if I hadn’t tutored you.” Scott gave him a tight-lipped smile before turning his head to look out of the window again. Stiles tried not to feel all too guilty about it.

“How are we going to get home?” Corey asked absently drawing small patterns on Mason’s thigh.

Stiles massaged his temple. “Isaac’s going to take you to the rail station.”

Mason didn’t look happy that everything was already set in stone but he didn't say anything. Instead, he pulled out his camera and earbuds. He was sulking, obviously, and Stiles knew how it felt to be pushed out of a case like nobody else. After all, he had been in the police cruiser with his dad more than once when a new case had come in. But Stiles also knew how important it was to graduate with proper grades to get out of this hell hole their hometown was. Deep down, he still hoped that the three of them wouldn’t settle for community college and leave Beacon Hills behind.

“Stiles.” Rafael opened the door to the small office and beckoned him over.

Stiles pressed his lips in a thin line, then with one last glance to the boys on the couch, he followed him out of the room. He still had no idea what this case was about. Rafael had caught up with Scott while Stiles had woken up the others and ushered them to pack their bags. They only stopped for coffee and breakfast before coming to the police department. It’s not even six o’clock, and Rafael hadn’t said anything regarding the case. Learning about it in a bustling police department in Long Beach, California with a few FBI agents trying to figure out what the fuck was going on did not sit well with Stiles at all. Aside from not knowing what he had agreed to, his biggest concern were the aforementioned agents.

Rafael opened the door to what looked like a conference room. Stiles rubbed the tag labelling him a consultant to the FBI, then slipped through the door. A middle-aged black woman greeted him with a bright smile. “You must be Stiles,” she said reaching out her hand. “I’m Angela, but you can call me Angie.”

Marginally confused about the lack of formality, he accepted her outstretched hand. “Hey, I’m Stiles, but-“ He stopped closing his eyes for a second while internally scolding himself. “Yeah, you know that already.” Angela wasn’t at all how Stiles imagined an FBI agent to be. But then again, his only reference was Rafael McCall which was most likely not the best one since they had a troubled relationship, and Stiles couldn’t exactly validate him or his representation objectively.

“You can speak freely,” Rafael said closing the door. “She knows.”

Stiles rubbed his upper arm and glanced out of the window to the small group of FBI agents talking at the coffee machine. “Everything?”

“Everything.” Rafael agreed following his eye. “Don’t worry about them. You will only be talking to us.” Stiles crossed and uncrossed his arms, forcing his attention away from the laughing group. One of them, a redhead with floppy curls, looked barely older than he was.

“No need to be nervous, sweetheart,” Angie said offering him a cup of coffee. Odd, how a word could have two completely different meanings depending on the person using them.

“Well,” Stiles muttered taking the coffee reluctantly, “it’s just- something wore my face for a bomb threat on a school, a bomb attack on a police department killing multiple deputies as well as a massacre at a hospital in which a federal agent had been critically wounded. It’s kinda hard not to get nervous around the FBI.” He still couldn’t believe that there had never been an investigation into it. La Bête was one thing. It killed tons of people but it was seen as nothing more than an animal attack. Having an actual person going around killing people and building bombs was something entirely different.

Rafael sat down on the edge of the round table. “We don’t have any prints on you,” he said tapping a finger against his own cup of coffee. “Neither do we have any other evidence because eyewitness reports as well as CCTV account for you being somewhere else during the attack on the hospital.”

Stiles frowned at him. “So, how’s explained I’m in two places at once?”

Angie walked around the table to stand beside her colleague. “Did you know that there are seven people in the world who look like you?” This statistic was nothing entirely new. Weird and extremely creepy, yes, but no fresh information. With over seven billion people in the world, it still sounded highly unlikely that two people looking like each other were found in the same small town. It sounded almost like the easy way out. But if the FBI wanted to believe this story, Stiles was the last person to correct them – and maybe he should be a little nicer to Rafael, after all, he most likely had been working things out in his favour. His dad also owed him his job.

Stiles took a sip of coffee before redirecting his attention to the white board plastered with bits and pieces of evidence. The second white board held the victims’ information. “Five?” He asked stepping a little closer to the two boards. Just like during their first case, the targets’ appearances were all over the place, as well as their ages, ethnicities, nationalities and jobs. One of them had been a High School student. A sophomore, to be exact. Another had been retired. A third had been a young mother from the Netherlands. There was always a connection, a link, something setting the killer off whether it was of human nature or supernatural.

“Within a week,” Angie clarified. “The first two murders happened within the span of a four days. The other three just yesterday.”

“They’re escalating,” Stiles noted looking at the board with pictures from the crime scenes. The victims had not only been murdered, they had been eviscerated and dismembered. That alone was overkill. It was pure slaughter. “Why do you think this is a case for us?” He asked after studying the modus operandi for a few moments. Although a part of him was interested in the answer, Stiles decided not to ask if they had still been alive as their limbs had been torn off. He doubted it would be important for the case.

Rafael stepped to his side. “They were killed in their own homes. The alarms weren’t triggered. No signs of forced entry. No open windows.”

“Maybe they let them in.”

“Unlikely,” Angie said coming to stand on his other side. “All doors and windows were locked from the inside.”

Okay. That was an argument. So, it’s maybe a vengeful spirit? Something like that. But finding out which dead person’s angry soul was currently on a killing spree in a city as large as Long Beach was going to be a pain in the ass. “And the connection-“

“We assume it has something to do with these notes left behind,” Angie explained pointing at the pieces of paper pinned beside the profile pictures of the victims. “It’s Greek. They mean-“

Stiles waved his hand. “Prostitution, sadness, wrath and pride. I know.”

Angie made a sound of surprise. “You know Greek?”

“I can… read and translate it as long as it isn’t too complex,” Stiles answered tapping the rim of the cup against his bottom lip in an irregular pattern.

“I told you he would be useful,” Rafael joked half-heartedly.

“I’m impressed.”

“That happens when you have too much freedom and get bored real quick,” Stiles deflected the indirect compliment and shifted slightly in his stance.

“Our first instinct was to make a connection to the Seven Deadly Sins because of pride and wrath. I think they’re the prime examples,” Angela explained a light sigh accompanying her tone. “But sadness obviously doesn’t fit. So, we checked for cases of prostitution, but Claire as well as Daniel are spot free.” She pointed to the mother first, then at the High School student.

Stiles bit the inside of his cheek. He couldn’t quite shake the Seven Deadly Sins theory off. But Angie was right, sadness didn’t fit and prostitution couldn’t exactly be considered as lust; especially since lust in the original sin actually meant being so horny that it not only lead to adultery but also to rape or bestiality. Basically, the sins were switched around. Stiles’ attention jumped from one Greek word to the next. They seemed familiar. He’d read them somewhere in this combination – and it wasn’t too long ago. But why would he have looked up these words? “Prostitution, sadness, wrath and pride,” he muttered more to himself than anyone in particular.

“Does it mean anything to you?” Rafael asked.

“I don’t-“ Stiles stopped midsentence as his eyes locked onto the word for pride again. Ὑπερηφανία. Pride. _Pride_. “Oh.” Now he remembered why he had read the words. The skinwalker’s case made him look it up. Although he knew it had nothing to do with the Seven Deadly Sins, he just read up on it afterwards because he didn’t have anything better to do. Theo had been studying for a test that night, so Stiles had accompanied him by doing some research of his own. _That_ ’s when he had stumbled over these combination of words. “You were right about the Seven Deadly Sins,” he said then snatching the marker lying on the bottom of the white board and looked for a space on it he could use to write.

“But sadness isn’t a sin, is it?” Angie asked unconvinced.

Stiles carefully shifted the pictures of the crime scenes just a little to the right. “Well, it’s not sadness as in grief,” he stated beginning to scribble something down. “It’s sadness as in- uh-“ Writing these words down demanded a lot of concentration. He hadn’t bothered to write anything in the Greek script before. It was more about recognising the words and translating them for the sole reason that a big chunk of the English language had derived from Greek. His interests had been all over the place and combined with a lot of time spent at the hospital or his bedroom had resulted in him reading tons of things – and as a child, learning languages was a lot easier than when you’re older. “It’s sadness as in being sad about other people’s good fortune? Like, like envy.” Rafael and Angie didn’t say anything. When he was finished writing, he pointed at the words. “These are the Logismoi by Evagrius Ponticus. He made this list of eight evil thoughts sometime in AD 375. Basically, they’re the origin of the modern Seven Deadly Sins. We have gluttony, prostitution or fornication, avarice, pride, sadness or, rather envy, wrath, boasting and acedia.” He pointed at each one as he went down the list. “I honestly have no clue how many people know about these evil thoughts since the modern version can be found everywhere. But whoever killed these people is familiar with them and seems to take them very serious.”

Angela was silent for a moment. “I would’ve crushed so hard on you in school.”

Rafael chuckled quietly.

“I’ve got ADHD, most people were surprised I haven’t failed classes on a regular basis.”

“Would you look at that,” Angela cooed. “He can’t even take a compliment.”

With a sigh, Stiles turned away from the whiteboard to face the two agents again. Out of the corner of his eye he saw movement. He whipped his head around noticing the raised hand from Angela. Suddenly, the cocoon of safety his presence inside a police department had offered him exploded into a thousand tiny pieces. He flinched away from the hand, hitting the whiteboard hard enough that it swayed precariously. His grip around the paper cup tightened. Coffee sloshed over his fingers and hand. Stiles hissed at the burning sensation and, subsequently, dropped the cup spilling its contents all over the floor and his feet.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he cursed shaking his hand before rubbing it against his hoodie. “I’m sorry, are there any paper towels?” He made a careful step over the puddle of coffee, keeping his distance and eyes from Angie. He didn’t mean to flinch. He didn’t mean to freak out – it just happened.

Rafael kept both of his hands low, barely above his waist level. “Stiles, it’s okay.” His voice was quiet, calm. He almost acted like Stiles was a wild animal he didn’t want to startle. “It’s only coffee. What’s with your hand?”

Stiles stopped, confused for the flicker of a second. “It’s fine. I’m fine. I just-“ He stopped himself before kneeling down to pick up the cup. A lick of coffee was still at the bottom of it. Stiles closed his eyes. “I let water run over it.”

“Okay.” Rafael crouched down in front of him and took the cup out of his hand. “How about you do that now before it gets worse.” The words sounded strangely thoughtful coming from him, but then again, Stiles had disliked him by default from the second he had heard that Scott had been at the hospital because of him; and maybe he didn’t so much as hate him anymore after what he had done for his dad, Stiles still doubted they could ever find proper common ground.

“Yeah, okay.”

Rafael stood up a moment after him. “Stiles, if there’s anything going on-“

“Going on?” Stiles echoed furrowing his brows.

Angela and he exchanged a short and not particularly subtle glance. “Scott said something about you being in a relationsh-“

“No,” Stiles interrupted irritated. “No, I’m not in an abusive relationship. Scott and Theo have a history, and I haven’t slept for over 24 hours; that’s all there is.” He raised his brows, confidently locking eyes with Rafael. Of course, he was aware how his reaction had looked like but this had nothing to do with anything – and even if it did, Rafael would be the last person on his list who he would go to for help.

Neither replied anything.

“Tell your son to stay out of my business,” he snapped before leaving the room to head for the restroom. He couldn’t _believe_ \- what did Scott tell his dad? Had he told him tonight while Stiles had been with the others? And he was willing to give him a second chance. Or- or was he maybe misinterpreting Rafael's words? He only said that Scott mentioned he was in a new relationship. Maybe it’s because of his job that he considered Stiles’ reaction as a sign of abuse. Maybe- his phone interrupted his thoughts halfway to the restroom. Some people turned to look at him. His neck and cheeks warmed while he was fumbling to get it out of the backpocket of his jeans. He didn’t usually forget to mute his phone. But than again, it’s ass o’clock in the morning. Who would even call him? When he finally got it, Stiles answered the call immediately and finally slipped into the restroom for some much needed privacy.

“Hello?” Stiles glanced at his reflection annoyed by his slightly flushed cheeks, then opened the faucet to let cold water run over his hand.

“Hey.” Stiles needed a few seconds to connect the hesitant voice to a person. Which might or might not be because he had avoided Brett for the past two weeks. Or that Brett avoided him. It was hard to tell. After all, he hadn’t come to the hospital again, although Lori had visited and excused her brother's absence. Stiles had told her not to worry about it. Seeing Brett reminded him sharply about what he had done, what had almost happened to him. Listening to his voice didn’t have quite the same impact as seeing him would have had. He still, however, felt a lump form in his throat.

“Hey,” Stiles replied after a second, shutting the water off. “It’s... It’s not the best time right-“

“Yeah, I know. It’s just-“ Brett stopped midsentence. Stiles could pick up on another voice in the background but didn’t understand what it said. “I heard you have a case in Long Beach, and I thought I should tell you something. Can you talk?”

“Oh god no- I mean, yes. I’m alone in the restroom.” Stiles raised his hand, then grimaced as the cold water dripped onto his face. This couldn’t be good. It probably meant there was a pack here – and that meant they had to approach the alpha to get their permission to help the FBI and enter their territory.

Brett was quiet for a few heartbeats. “The pack living there is, hm.” He stopped again, followed by another silence. “The alpha, he’s not quite-“ Again he stopped, this time scoffing audibly. “Okay, so- he’s an uptight, conservative asshat.” It’s almost like Brett suddenly snapped back into himself. “He is _not_ going to like your pack because it doesn’t fit his standards, and he’s not going to accept you as an alpha either.” Stiles squeezed his eyes shut shuddering involuntarily. He knew this would happen eventually. He knew he would have to face this problem. But not _now_. It couldn’t be a worse time. “If he finds out what you are-“ Brett continued after a few moments of silence. “It’s saver for you to stay out of this.”

Stiles opened his mouth, closed it, took a deep breath and then started again. “People are getting slaughtered here. I can’t just leave.”

“You don’t understand,” Brett insisted, and Stiles could feel his stomach tighten at the urgency in his tone. “This guy is insane. He wanted to be a member of the Alpha Pack. Deucalion turned him down, said he wasn't interested. But I guess that tells you how much he craves power.”

It gave him an idea, that’s for sure. “Where is his territory?”

“Hard to tell,” Brett replied uneasily. “The RMS Queen Mary is neutral ground, as is the police department, but that’s still not a save place to be.”

Stiles bit the inside of his cheek. “Why?” He asked unable to keep the hitch out of his voice.

“Don’t tell me you’re at the station.”

“I might be,” Stiles replied quietly. “With the others."

Brett took a deep breath. “Okay,” he muttered followed by another silence. “Then he'll know. A member of his pack is a detective there. He’s in his mid-twenties, red curly hair, always wears a suit because he thinks he’s better than everyone else.” So, basically the guy who Stiles had thought was with the FBI. Fantastic. “Name’s Anthony. He’s second in command after killing his predecessor.”

Stiles stared at own reflection, wide-eyed and open-mouthed. “ _What_?” He managed to utter after swallowing around the lump in his throat. His heart was hammering against his sore chest.

“Yeah, packs like theirs are the reason hunters think we’re feral beasts.” Brett let out a sound that was something between a sigh and a groan. “Anyway, stay away from him. Don’t do anything that could capture his interest. He’s used to get what he wants, even if he takes it with violence.” Stiles couldn’t suppress the shudder running down his spine. “Leave, but be inconspicuous about it.”

Stiles nodded to himself. “Okay.”

“Be careful... and text me when you’re out.”

“Okay.” Stiles hung up and pushed the phone back in the pocket of his jeans. It’s not a secret that some packs follow a different code. He’s met a couple of werewolves by now who thought themselves to be superior or used their strength for an advantage. He had the unfortunate luck of getting to know more than a handful who chose murder as their means to an end. But he had always been the human. Now, he was smack in the middle of navigating pack politics which he didn’t have a clue about.

But he was good at improvising.

Stiles took a deep breath, then pushed himself away from the sink. Just get out, go to his pack and walk out of here. He’d tell Rafael he’s too tired to be helpful. But let’s be real, he had horrible track record with bad werewolves. He was like catnip in this regard. Okay. Step one. He needed to make a beeline for the office with his pack.

After another levelled breath, Stiles opened the door. Anthony’s hair was like a beacon of light in contrast to his dark suit; especially now that he knew who he was. To his relief, Stiles found him still talking to the group of FBI agents, so he used his chance.

To avoid eye-contact without looking suspicious, Stiles pulled his phone back out and opened a random chat message. He glanced up to avoid running into people before he typed a short text. _Brett called. Enemy pack. Need 2 leave ASAP._ As he looked back up, he noticed Angela and Rafael walking into the office his pack was waiting in. Perfect. That would make this whole thing a lot easier.

“Hold up,” he called, and Angela held the door open until he had slipped past her.

“How’s your hand?” She asked with a soft smile. For some reason, Stiles wanted to slip her his father’s phone number. The thought had come out of nowhere and pushed him off track for a second. He really liked her. It was something about the way her eyes lit up when she smiled. Her whole expression and demeanour. The way she seemed so genuine in everything she said and did.

Maybe he should do a background check, just in case. Although his instincts were usually right, he didn’t properly trust them at the moment.

Stiles walked to the couch kicking Liam’s leg to make him look up from the camera. “All fine,” he said showing the message to him and watching as he read it once, then twice. “Sorry again for dropping the coffee.”

The exact moment he understood could be pinpointed to his mouth falling open as if his jaw had become too heavy. His eyes flicked up to meet Stiles’. He was searching for any signs of a joke. When he found none, Liam nudged Corey and Mason. Both looked up. In unison, they pulled out the earbud they were wearing and followed Liam’s pointer. It was almost comical, how their expression changed from confusion to shock in the span of a barely ten seconds. Mason, similar to his best friend, looked slack-jawed. Corey fidgeted uncomfortably and glanced through the large windows into the department. Only a moment later, they all gathered their things. Mason hastily pushed the camera into his backpack.

“It’s no bit deal,” Angela replied, and Stiles needed a moment to remember what in the world she was even talking about. His own stress-levels were starting to nibble through his composure. He took another breath, trying his hardest not to freak out because he didn’t need Liam to smell his anxiety and freak out with him. He was the alpha, he needed to keep his shit together.

Stiles walked over to Scott and his father ignoring the way his knees wobbled as his legs turned into jelly. Not a fan of that feeling. Not at all. “Are you going to stay?” He asked turning his phone just enough that the display was visible to the two of them.

“Yeah,” Scott replied furrowing his brows. “We want to grab breakfast. He'll drop me off at the hotel later.” His lips curled down then straightened as the message’s content became clear. Scott had it even worse than they had. He was an omega. He was essentially packless; entering another pack’s territory could be counted as a challenge to the alpha.

Stiles nodded watching as Rafael looked up and into the station, where slowly more and more people started showing up. He pulled his phone back, deleted the message and typed a new one. _Redhead. With your guys._ Rafael turned back to read it before he focused his attention on the werewolf in question. “I’ve heard there’s this diner just a mile outside town.” Stiles glanced at Scott, who briefly nodded. Maybe he was pissed at him, but he still cared about his well-being. “Okay, great. I’ll do some research.” Stiles pushed his phone in the pocket of his jeans. “Maybe you could swing by as well.” He quickly glanced at Angela, who followed the exchange without saying anything. But her eyes were wide. She understood something was going on.  

“Sounds good,” Rafael agreed. His eyes were still focused on this Anthony guy with such an intensity that he had to notice something.

Stiles snapped his fingers for attention and shook his head ever so slightly. If Rafael started to behave weirdly, Anthony would soon figure out that something was going on. “Let’s go,” Stiles said turning to his pack angling for his backpack. Probably remembering his reaction from yesterday, Liam's fingers stopped inches away from the strap of Stiles’ rucksack. His mouth then set into a decisive line, and he picked it up only to offer it to him a moment later. Raising a brow, Stiles took it. Mason made a noise that could have been a laugh, if he didn’t look even more anxious than Stiles felt.

With a last glance at Rafael, Scott and Angela, Stiles left the office. _Don’t do anything to capture his interest._ Easier said than done. What would capture the interest of a werewolf like him? It was hard to tell. He decided to keep his head high this time, not wanting to leave the station like he had done something wrong. But a group of four teenagers was bound to capture the attention of some people in the station, mostly those who hadn't seen them before. He was uneasy, and no matter how hard he tried to push the feeling down, Stiles knew that Anthony would notice it. But it’s not like he knew where the feeling stemmed from, right? It could be any reason, really.

Against his better knowledge and  Brett’s warning, Stiles looked over his shoulder. Anthony had turned away from the small group of FBI agents he had been talking to since they had arrived here, and he was looking back at him. Stiles didn’t know what to do. He never meant to have anyone interested in him. It just happened. For some reason. It had all started with Peter Hale. Perhaps because of the void, but none of the werewolves knowing what he was outright stated that they could smell it. The Hales had a hunch, but the Hales had known his mother – and Derek and he had spent a lot of time together. He had been able to form a proper opinion on him over the course of a year. Stiles forced himself to look away, the uneasiness creeping up his spine ever so slowly. There’s no way Anthony could know. He was freaking out over nothing.

Stiles pushed the door open, relieved as the first rays of sunlight caressed his skin. The warmth made him feel better, or maybe it was the natural light source instead of the cold light inside the station. He let Liam, Mason and Corey pass him, for some reason feeling better if he was covering their backs than the other way around. The door fell shut behind him, and Stiles could properly breathe again almost like a weight had lifted off his chest he hadn’t noticed being there. But he cheered too soon. As per usual. They had barely made it halfway to Stiles and Lydia’s car when someone called them back.

The bad feeling was back before Stiles had even turned around to see who it was. Liam’s comically wide eyes told him everything he needed to know. Although he hadn’t told him who the werewolf was, he had probably noticed Stiles staring at him a few seconds ago. “Oi, laddie!”

Stiles slowly turned around. Anthony crossed the distance with long strides. His walk was secure, paces firm. The suit, clearly tailored for a lot of money, hugged his body perfectly. It made Stiles think of a politician’s son, the president’s son even. Authority clung to him like a second skin. But there was something else, and it took him a second to notice it with his photo model face, mahogany hair and steel blue eyes: danger. It was the kind of danger Stiles had seen before; however, it had clung to another boy; a boy with dark brown hair and chestnut brown eyes. Anthony seemed to be everything Donovan could have been if Stiles hadn’t ended up murdering him.

As Anthony stopped in front of him, Stiles had to fight the urge to step away for distance. _Be inconspicuous about it_. “Is something wrong?”

Anthony blinked in confusion, then smiled. His expression masked the truth underneath. Nobody would think he was sick in the head. Donovan had never bothered to hide his own psychotic outbreaks. But maybe Stiles could see right through his act because even Theo hadn't been able to fool him with the face of an angel, and Theo had been exceptional at fooling people. Everyone had fallen for his charade. “Nae. Nothin’ wrong.” He was Scottish, Stiles thought. Maybe somewhere from around the Lowlands. But he could only guess at this point. “Tha’ case ye’re helpin’ with, any breakthrough?”

Stiles crossed his arms. His shoulders hurt from how tense he was, which made the ache in his chest more prominent. “I don’t think I’m supposed to talk about that.”

Anthony made a dismissive gesture. He was still smiling, but his lips had twitched precariously. Nothing too noticeable if someone wasn't looking for it. “Aye, but I’m workin’ with the FBI.”

“I’m sorry but you have to talk with Agent McCall about that.” It explained why he had stood with the other agents the whole time. He’d hoped to get some inside scoop. Stiles wondered why he was so interested in the case. When he was working with the FBI, then he should talk to the FBI instead of the teenager being dragged in for consultation. Unless, this wasn’t about the case at all. This was about something else.

“I willnae tell.” Anthony’s smiled changed into a smirk, and he winked, leaning a little closer. “It’ll be our wee secret.”

Stiles wasn’t blind. He noticed an attractive person when he saw one. But he was resistant to people using their looks to get what they wanted. If he hadn’t known before who Anthony was, he’d bite on granite anyway. Stiles didn’t want to say he couldn’t be manipulated, but he did, however, like to brag about the fact that someone would need to try a lot harder than flashing him a smile and trying to flirt. Even without being in a relationship, he wasn't that desperate. “Okay, _lassie_ ,” Stiles replied irked by the arrogance and unable to stop the tension from being released into anger. “If you can’t take no for an answer, that’s not my problem. I’d advice you to talk to the proper authorities instead of making advances on someone you don’t even know is legal yet to get information.” Stiles turned around fully aware that somewhere in South America Derek Hale winced at his stupidity. “And if you excuse me know, I have to stick to an appointment.” Without looking back, and trying his hardest to keep himself from speeding up, Stiles ushered Mason, Liam and Corey in the direction of his car.

“You’re insane,” Mason whispered chancing a glance over his shoulder.

“Less talking more walking.”

 

Stiles watched Lydia walk up and down in the living room of their suite through the door to the bedroom. She seemed relatively unfazed by the fact that this ship was supposed to be haunted. Hopefully it meant there was no problem. It would be too risky to find another place to stay. They didn’t know the borders of the pack’s territory. Kira and Theo sat on the couch. The latter flicked through the bestiary, then and again looking up and over towards where Stiles and Isaac were sitting on the bed. “What are we going to do?” Stiles asked quietly.

“I don’t know,” Isaac replied falling onto his back.

With a sigh, Stiles followed his idea but kept his arms at his side instead of crossing them behind his head. “I don’t want to leave,” he continued quietly staring at the white ceiling. “But if Brett’s right-“ Biting the inside of his cheek, Stiles trailed off. Before he would continue to rack his brains about the goddamn case, he needed to figure out what they were going to do in the first place.

“Maybe we should talk to everyone,” Isaac said, his voice barely louder than his breathing.

Stiles closed his eyes for a moment, then turned his head to look at him. “We know what Theo’s going to say,” he muttered raising his brows as Isaac moved to meet his eyes. “We also know Kira’s most likely going to accept any decision, and Lydia’s pretty cocky since she can control her powers better.” His lips twitched into a sly grin. Isaac snorted out a laugh. A moment later, they both sighed. “I’m prone to take risks, you’re a survivor. I feel like we could balance this shit out and make an amazing decision.”

Isaac squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them one by one. The corners of his mouth pulled slightly down. “I’m not good at making decisions.” Which could easily be translated to _why the fuck am I second in command_? The fact that he hadn’t noticed his position in the first place had raised small concerns. It’s part of the reason why Stiles decided to talk this problem through with Isaac first, just to give him a feeling for it.

Also, Stiles had no fucking clue what to do.

“You’ve put your foot down as Mason and Liam wanted to throw a tantrum,” Stiles reminded him. In fact, Isaac had backed him up vigorously threatening to drag them to Jackson’s car by their knickers if he needed to. He also had thought ahead of Stiles and made Lydia convince her boyfriend to drive them down here because he didn’t trust Mason to stay on the train when the pack was dealing with a murder case. He was most likely right about that. Mason probably would’ve come up with whatever bullshit story he needed to convince his parents as well as Liam’s that they could stay – and Stiles wouldn’t allow that.

Isaac shrugged scrunching up the pillow case underneath him. “You kinda made the decision before?”

They were silent for a few moments. Stiles listened to the click of Lydia’s heels on the floor, to the slight rustle of old paper when Theo turned a page. He heard the laughter outside in the hallway of horror and wished that could be them. Easier times. Better lives. Was it even right of him to drag his pack into cases like these? Especially now, that they couldn't have talked about it before they travelled. He hadn't even asked if they wanted to take this case at all.

He raised a hand, then lowered it again shrugging as well. “I guess I could stay alone,” Stiles suggested staring at the ceiling again.

“Yeah, right,” Isaac deadpanned shuffling in an upright position to better glare down at him. “You’re the brand of person that decides to become a reclusive, moves into a place in the middle of nowhere and still some maniac would find their way to you.” Stiles quirked a brow. “What? It’s true. You're attracting all the bad weed.”

“You’re overreacting.”

Isaac made a complicated gesture Stiles decided to interpret as _am not_. “Isn’t there a loophole?” He asked then making a 180 back to the important topic. “I mean, something we could do without getting involved?”

“If we help, we are essentially getting involved,” Stiles said sitting up as well. His eyes automatically found Theo in the other room, who showed Lydia and Kira something in the bestiary. Neither girl looked convinced, so he shrugged and continued his skimming.

Isaac scrunched up his whole face in frustration. “Okay, so but... Brett said this-“ he waved his hand in the air- “is neutral ground. If we help from here-“

“We’re not stepping on anybody’s toes,” Stiles agreed but the enthusiasm deflated rather quickly, and he pressed his middle and index fingers against his temples. “We're pushing our luck, aren’t we?”

Isaac grimaced. “Probably.”

They both looked at each other in silence. Since they’d been kidnapped, Isaac and he had certainly inched closer. Stiles was very aware that it could have turned out completely differently, too. It could have pushed them further apart, like it had done with him and Brett. They had been close before more friends than acquaintances – they were still friends, that’s not it. But… _but_ thinking about Brett made him go cold all over, hearing his voice made his throat clog up. He was afraid what seeing him would make him feel like. Anxious. Probably. Maybe even terrified. Not of Brett, of course, but of the memory it would bring up. If he didn’t want to cut him out of his life, Stiles would have to tackle the subject eventually.

Isaac gave him a crooked smile. “You there?”

“Huh?”

“You kinda spaced out there for a couple of seconds.”

Stiles eyed his hands watching his knuckles turn white under pressure, watching how the colour returned to his skin. Once, twice. Then he looked up. “Isaac, how-“

A loud _thud_ made him jump. Kira jolted off the sofa with a yelp, even Theo had gotten to his feet and turned around. “What the-“ Isaac began scrambling off the bed to go investigate.

Stiles’ attempt at following him was impeded by the blanket wrapped around his ankle. “That happened yesterday, too,” he explained after he freed himself from the perpetrator. “I went in but nothing was there.”

“What do you mean nothing?” Isaac asked squinting at him.

Stiles strode past him and climbed on the couch again. “See for yourself,” he said opening the latch before pulling the panels apart. The room greeted him with emptiness for a second time in a couple hours. No bags, no signs of living and no evidence of something having fallen over. “Nothing.” And that was bugging the hell out of him. Determined, Stiles clambered over the backrest and into the room.

“Stiles,” Kira whisper shouted, “isn’t that breaking and entering?”

“It’s a hotel.” Theo chucked the bestiary on the table to follow him into the room curiously glancing around. Isaac hopped the sofa as well grinning at Kira who still looked concerned.

Lydia clicked her tongue. “Don’t enable him.”

Stiles raised a brow at her. “We all know I’ve got a lot more crimes on my platter than this. Including but not limited to defiling a grave. So, it-“

“Yo, Guinea,” Isaac interrupted him suddenly, tapping a finger against the bridge of his nose. “Do you smell that?”

Theo had gotten so used to be called guinea pig by Isaac that he reacted to it like a nickname. He wasn’t even bothered by it anymore. Stiles watched him take a deep breath followed by a frown. “This is not how a hotel room in a haunted ship should smell,” Theo noted glancing from Isaac to Stiles.

“That’s what I thought.”

Lydia went rigid all of the sudden, her eyes wide. “The bathroom.”

Stiles whipped his head around. The sound hadn't been from something smacking against the floor. It was something hitting a wall. A door, for example. Quickly, he walked to the only door standing open in the whole suite. Theo followed him so quickly, he bumped into him. The door lead to a tiny hallway without any windows, similar to the hallway leading to the bathroom in their suite. He stopped in his tracks causing Theo to walk into him again.

“Stiles?”

“Yeah?” He hesitated. He actually hesitated to walk into this hallway. Two long strides and he would be out. That’s all it took. Two strides and he would be in the bathroom. He knew that. Maybe light would help. The hallways in their suite always had light.

Theo put a hand on his upper arm, tugging him back. “You don’t actually have to look. We know what’s in that room.”

“It’s really a no brainer,” Isaac agreed.

Stiles shook his head. “I was just looking for the switch. I don’t have the ability to see in the dark.”

“The switch is right beside you,” Theo pointed out and, demonstratively, flicked the light on.

“Oh.” Stiles cleared his throat, ignoring the inquisitive look Theo sent in his direction. His crooked smile convinced probably nobody, but Stiles gently loosened Theo's grip anyway and mentally prepared himself for what’s to come. Because _that’s_ the problem, right? It’s the high possibility of the body behind that wooden door, of the scene he would see. It’s not the too small hallway without an exit.

‘ _And how do you explain the elevator?_ ’ A small voice in the back of his mind asked. ‘ _Did you expect a monster on the gateway, too?_ ’

Stiles shook his head and moved through the hallway as fast as he could. Just like removing a Band-Aid. His fingers clamped around the doorknob tension tightening its grip around his shoulders and neck. The doorknob gave way, and, like in a terrible horror movie, the door swung open with a grating sound.

“Oh _fantastic_ ,” Theo commented.

Stiles stood frozen in the doorway. It’s exactly like the pictures back at the department had depicted. Slaughter. The victim was torn open offering an unobstructed view of her colon and small bowel. Both had slipped partly out of the gash, lying in the pool of blood covering almost the whole floor like a carpet. Both of her legs were not where they belonged. One was completely torn of, the other had half a thigh left. The arms had suffered a similar fate. Her head had fallen to the side leaning on the corpse’s shoulder. The hair colour was hard to make out as drenched in blood as the long strands were.

The victim had been female. Three males, three females over all. Two females and two males had been slaughtered on the same day. Because this body barely smelled which meant it couldn’t be decaying for longer than 24 hours considering the temperature in the room. But there were other factors playing into that as well.

Involuntarily, Stiles made a step into the room, but Theo pulled him back before his foot hit the ground. “This is a crime scene,” he snapped.

“There’s a note somewhere,” Stiles insisted pointing in the room. Theo, however, wasn’t having any of that. He wrapped his arms around his waist and carried him out through the hallway and back into the suite. Stiles was pretty sure his damaged ribcage saved him from being thrown over his shoulder. Internally, he was thankful for that. Externally, he grimaced at the treatment. He wasn’t a goddamn toddler. He could be talked to.

Isaac followed them through the room waiting patiently until Stiles had begrudgingly climbed back over the couch and into their suite. Although Theo was last, Isaac closed the panels. “See,” he exclaimed irritated, “this is what I meant when I said you’d find the madman in the middle of nowhere.” Isaac turned around pointing at Stiles, who crossed his arms defensively. “Only you would have the luck to book the suite next to a bloody crime scene.”


	3. Chapter 3

It was sometime after two a.m. when Stiles had decided sleep wasn’t going to come to him. Especially not lying like this. It didn’t do anything for his poor ribcage. Although it bothered him mostly when he had been moving his arms a lot – or after having been driving for five hours – it ached now after having been forced to awkwardly lay on his side between Theo and Lydia. Additionally to his sore chest, his thoughts wouldn’t stop circling around the body, the endless questioning afterwards and the pointless attempts in research. Six bodies, and they weren’t really any closer than they had been in the beginning of their research; and it mostly didn’t help that neither of them had a proper night’s sleep the night before.

With a sigh, Stiles tried to get out of bed, carefully avoiding to wake Theo or Lydia sleeping closely to his left and right. The latter let out a soft breath, then rolled onto her other side now facing Kira. Theo, however, wasn’t as easy to sneak away from. He seized his arm only seconds before Stiles had managed to get out of bed. “Where do you think you’re going?” Theo hissed equal amounts tired and annoyed.

For a brief moment, Stiles contemplated lying as an option. He decided against it, in the end. Honesty was the driving force in their relationship. They promised each other to talk. “I need to get fresh air.”

Theo sat up a little further. “Do you want me to come?”

“No,” he whispered turning around until he had access to Theo’s lips. He knew this answer could lead fairly easily to an argument. So, maybe it wasn’t quite fair to distract him from the topic at hand, but it’s too enticing – also, enjoyable and perhaps the tiniest bit inconvenient since Theo didn’t waste a second and wrapped his arms around his shoulders and waist to pull him close and onto his lap. Of course, the gist of it was to convince Stiles not to leave the bed; not that they could do anything with Lydia this close. Well, they could but- no. Just no. “I’d like to walk a bit,” he whispered against lips between kisses. “Clear my head.”

Theo buried his fingers in the short stands of his hair. “There are other ways.”

“Sure there are,” Stiles muttered pulling back just enough to put a hand over Theo’s mouth. The following scowl was blissfully ignored – especially since he couldn’t see it properly in the dark. “And I appreciate the offer but I need to get out of this room or I’m going insane.”

With a muffled groan, Theo fell back on top of the pillow they had shared, fingers tapping gently against Stiles’ hip. “It’s two in the morning,” he muttered after Stiles had withdrawn his hand. “Why are you even awake?”

“Can you stop questioning my insomnia until after I’m back from my walk?”

Theo rolled his eyes; a gesture that would probably be far more dramatic if half of his face wasn’t hidden in the darkness. “I don’t have to tell you how much I dislike it?”

Some part of Stiles was thrilled by being confronted with disagreement. The last two weeks had been full of peace and understanding, full of harmony, and although that had been nice and quite relaxing, Siles couldn’t quite ignore his urge to engage in a fight or at least an argument. He knew exactly how to push Theo’s buttons, and he surely was not above provoking fights. Lydia had kindly pointed that out after Stiles had used Brett deliberately for that purpose.

With a grin, Stiles grabbed Theo’s chin. “We both know, I wouldn’t listen,” he reminded him cheerfully and rolled off him as well as the bed.

“Take your phone,” Theo ordered clearly unhappy about the whole situation, “stay on the ship. No ghost hunting, though.”

“Yes, _Dad_.” Stiles snatched his phone from the nightstand and made a show out off putting it in the pocket of his sweatpants. “Anything else?” He asked angling for the hoodie he’d discarded beside the bed.

“Stay away from B-Deck, the pool and the engine room.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “That was rhetorical. But thanks for allowing me to go to the isolation ward.”

“ _Stiles_ ,” Theo hissed.

There we go. Some obscure form of satisfaction washed over him. Nobody needed to point out the elephant in the room. It was wrong and more than a little unfair. But nobody’s perfect, and he couldn’t resist pushing his boundaries – not that he’d ever go too far or risk their relationship. “I’ll be on the sun or promenade deck,” Stiles whispered crouching down beside the bed, “and in an hour I’m most likely bored as hell. Who knows what I’ll wanna do then?” Smirking, he pressed another kiss to Theo’s lips. “Go back to sleep.”

Theo scoffed claiming his mouth for a couple seconds until, even if reluctantly, he let him leave.

Stiles slipped into his shoes as quietly as possible, so he wouldn’t wake Isaac, who slept in the living room on a mattress. Nobody liked the maiden’s room. It was almost as creepy as the goddamn hallways on this ship. He checked for the key card twice before slipping out of the room. As a means of distraction, Stiles pulled out his phone. He’d rather run into someone than to watch his surroundings. To his surprise, he had a message from Scott.

 

Stiles frowned briefly glancing up so he wouldn’t trip over something. He’d already crossed half of the foyer. Thank god. He couldn’t wait for the moment he’d never had to set foot into these fucking hallways again. He flicked through his contacts without answering Scott. Seeing his name, Stiles couldn’t help but wonder if he had called him out just for the sake of pleasing his need for conflict. Clenching his teeth, he took two steps at a time. Or maybe, Scott was simply a dick, and Stiles had every right to do what he had done.

 _Whatever_.

He opened a message to Brett, telling him to call him as soon as he was up. If anyone knew about this symbol it was Satomi. But for obvious reasons, he decided against asking her directly. He really didn’t want to push his luck with her after what had happened with Brett. Staying on the down low seemed to be the best decision for their current situation; although it’s not like he had actually planned on it to happened, and it could hardly be considered his fault. _Still_. Satomi… Satomi scared him, although he very well knew she was a wonderful person and a good alpha.

Stiles fumbled for his earbuds and started a random list on Spotify – it sounded suspiciously like one Theo would have listened to. But Stiles couldn’t, for the life of him, remember when Theo had used his phone to listen to music. Scrunching up his nose, he pulled his hoodie over his head. Maybe this wasn’t exactly his first choice in music, he’d not only grown to like it increasingly more due to being subjected to it on an almost daily basis, it was also the perfect music to drown out his thoughts. He pushed the doors open, the fast electronic beats doing their work satisfactorily. The storm clouds in the distance were foreboding. In general, the weather sucked exceptionally. He’d probably didn’t have too long before the rain would come rolling in.

The second he had reached the railing, the beats were cut off by his phone, signalling an incoming phone call. If that was Theo, Stiles would flip his shit. All he requested was an hour of solitude, an hour to get his thoughts in order so he could finally concentrate on this goddamn case. That’s all he wanted. They had spent the last two weeks together. 24/7, basically. And if he considered it closely, he hadn’t been by himself since he had climbed in Theo’s car to pick up Isaac from work. That had been the night they had been kidnapped. Since then, he’d always been under supervision.

Stiles pulled out his phone, quirking a brow in surprise. It was a video call. From Brett. Time was ticking closer to three a.m. Well, seemed like he wasn’t the only one suffering from insomnia these days. As he swiped up to answer, it took a few seconds until the connection was able to steady itself enough for a clear view. Beaming at him, however, wasn’t Brett but his littler sister. “Your text’ll better be the prelude to a booty call.”

Stiles snorted out a laugh. “Why would I do that to a person who’s like five hours away from me?”

Lori shrugged. “Brett would drive that,” she replied making a dismissive gesture, but her grin was still obscenely large. It reminded him of a slightly drunk teenager. If werewolves were capable of getting drunk, Stiles wouldn’t even find it very notable. Then again, he had never seen her this giddy before because she was, much like her dear brother, a very laid back character, although with not as much sharp edges as him.

“I’m not driving five hours for the promise of sex when I have a club around the corner where I can hook up with the next best person,” Brett said suddenly from somewhere out of vision. A moment later, the phone was yanked out of Lori’s grip so quickly, Stiles almost got motion sick. “Also, you don’t get to answer my phone.”

“But it’s _Stiles_!” Lori explained, and it sounded as if she was clapping her hands. “Look!”

The camera was turned again, a little slower this time, and Brett was blinking down at him. At first, he seemed puzzled drawing his eyebrows in while Stiles was battling the trickle of anxiety creeping up his back to wrap a hand around his throat. It’s the first time he’d actually seen him after he had saved his life. Stiles probably should feel grateful instead of panicked. “Well, shit.” Brett sat down on something, the ground perhaps – it was hard to make out the background of where he even was since the only light seemed to come from, presumably, a small lamp to his right – and Lori clambered back into view. “What heist are you trying to pull off?”

The nonchalant way in which he spoke helped Stiles to relax a little – it’s also a lot easier to avoid Brett’s eyes over the phone by looking into the distance; and those were some serious storm clouds making their way over to them. “Someone who lives in sweatpants is not allowed to judge other people’s fashion choices.”

“That’s because I don’t need clothes to look good.” Brett wiggled his brows. Lori flicked her brother’s ear, rolling her eyes theatrically.

Stiles could suddenly breath properly again. “Uh-huh,” he replied eventually.

“No, no. I like it,” Brett replied still smirking. “Very edgy.”

“Oh, ha ha.” Stiles flipped him the bird watching Lori jiggling both her legs and constantly bumping into her brother. “What are you even doing up?”

Brett pulled a face. Lori scrambled to her feet again running around in the background. “Fucking nuisance,” he uttered eying his sister for a few moments. “Lori, can you not- the other’s have just calmed down. I swear-“ He leaned back tilting the phone so Stiles was faced with the darkness of the rest of the room. “You’re like a squirrel on crack every full moon.” There was a muffled _thud_ and as the camera faced Brett again, Lori sat at his side for a second time.

Yeah. Full moon. Hopefully Liam was okay. Mason promised to keep an eye on him, just in case of an emergency. “The others?” Stiles asked after a moment of silence. Most of the time, he forgot all about when the full moon was near. Neither Isaac nor Theo had any problem with it. Jackson seemed to be completely in control as well, and it’s not like Liam had gigantic problems on full moons. He simply got lost in his randiness, if it wasn’t kept under wraps – and Stiles really did not intend to face his dad another time telling him that there were reports of a naked wolf-boy roaming the streets.

“Satomi made me watch over the little runts,” Brett replied shrugging. _Made me_. Stiles had thought it was nothing more than an easy explanation Lori had to excuse Brett’s absence during his hospitalisation. But it seemed, she had told the truth; not that that made him feel any better – and he honestly had no clue what to reply.

“The things you do fo-“

"Satomi said,” Brett interrupted Lori raising his voice notably albeit being the one who had told his sister to be quiet only a moment ago, “and I quote: I respect your- uh _decision_ -“ Lori rolled her eyes jiggling her legs again- “but you will have to face the consequences.” He spoke through his nose, although they both knew very well that Satomi might be strict but not arrogant. “So, here I am, babysitting the fucking lunatics.”

Stiles ran his fingers over the railing of the ship watching lightning illuminate the sky in the distance. “I guess… I guess that would be my fault.”

“Nah,” Brett declined, and Stiles looked back at his phone to find Lori tugging at her brother’s sleeve. “As second in command, I’m expected to put my pack above everything, to think before I act.” Brett fell silent for a moment staring off into the distance. Although Stiles considered them friends, he sensed that there were parts of him he didn’t know; like right now. Stiles was aware something was going on in Brett’s head, but he couldn’t even begin to form an idea what he was actually thinking about. “Don’t get me wrong. I love my family, my pack and all but-“ Brett shrugged shaking off whatever had occupied his mind- “I’m 18, man. I lost my fucking zen when I saw you-“ He stopped again; maybe he had noticed Stiles’ flinching. “I mean, what did she expect me to do? Write Isaac a step by step manual?”

Stiles bit the inside of his cheek. “I kinda wish I could do something else than say thank you.”

“It’s- ugh, whatever. You’ve saved me, too,” Brett replied again looking somewhere that wasn’t the camera while Lori nudged him again and again. Impressive that he wasn’t already annoyed. “Back during the Deadpool, I mean. You and Derek-“ Brett scowled before finally looking back with a slight but exceptionally fake smirk. “Let’s not talk about that. What are you doing up?”

A gust of wind tugged at Stiles’ hood. Frowning, he turned around to lean against the railing instead, now facing the door he had come out off. “I needed to walk, I guess,” he replied watching the empty foyer for a little while. For a ship this large with almost ninety percent of the rooms booked, he hadn’t met a single person while walking upstairs; no employee, no tourist, no ghost hunters. It was kind of weird despite the late hour. “Get out, you know. I haven’t been alone in the last two weeks, and having to sleep in a bed with three other people is not fucking helpful.”

“Language!” Lori whisper shouted pointing her finger at the camera.

Brett flicked her hand. “Sounds pretty confining.”

Stiles slid down the wall of the ship until he sat on the floor to be protected from the wind. “Well, I mean… Isaac suffers the same fate but Theo’s a bit, well-“

“Overprotective?” Brett offered with a jeer pulling his sister back down again who threw her hands in the air. He definitively didn’t understate Lori’s behaviour during a full moon. She’s almost as worse as Stiles had used to be during his younger ADHD days.

Stiles waved his hand around, although Brett pretty much nailed it. Still, overprotective sounded so bad. “He’s worried is all.”

“Worried,” Brett repeated rolling his eyes excessively. “He’s-“

“I know,” Stiles interrupted him running a hand over his face. He really didn’t want to discuss the overprotective behaviour his boyfriend more often than not displayed; because Brett was right about that one. Theo couldn’t fucking help it, and although it annoyed Stiles to no end, he meant well. So, it wasn’t really bad. It’s not like he locked him into a room and prohibited him from going anywhere; his only condition was that Stiles didn’t go anywhere completely alone, or, as in this very case, kept his phone at hand and didn’t venture out too far.

Brett let out an audible breath. “Dear little guinea pig.”

“You have every right to be pissed off,” Stiles muttered although he felt somewhat guilty for saying that. But it was the truth. He did understand why Brett disliked Theo so much, and he had told Scott the same thing: he was not Theo’s social worker. He would guide Theo on the right path, but he was, and would not ever, try and find excuses for his behaviour. “I told him to apologise but he-“

“Frankly, I don’t give a rats ass about your darling’s apology whether it comes from his little stony heart or not,” Brett shot back with his free hand raised. Perhaps he didn’t know Brett as well as any of his other friends yet, but Stiles understood one thing, there was nothing Theo could say which could make him feel any differently about him. That was an acquaintanceship never surpassing just that; and Stiles couldn’t quite tell if that’s because of Brett’s unwillingness to forgive him or something entirely else. Either way, he couldn’t even blame him. Perhaps Theo had been in shock after what had happened, but that was in no way an excuse for going off on Brett like this. He had acted out of line, and he had been the only one. “For all I care, he can shove it down his throat and choke on it. As long as he doesn’t expect me to act like I’ve got an ounce of respect for him, I guess we’re square.”

“That’s fair,” Stiles muttered leaning his head back against the metal wall. Of course, he’d like for both Theo and Brett to get along just like he wanted to get along with Scott again, and that perhaps even Theo and Scott would, at the very least, find common ground. “But you’ll act civil when you’re in the same room?”

“That’s up to him.”

Stiles noticed that Brett never referred to Theo by name and instead continued to use nicknames that weren’t exactly insulting but couldn’t be described as charming either. Maybe it had been a good thing Theo had stayed up in his room when Brett had visited for a movie night with Kira and Isaac. Although he doubted Isaac would have let it escalate between the two, he’d rather not put Isaac in a place where he was forced to decide between someone who more and more became a very close friend and a memberof his pack. “That’s a start, I guess.”

“Why do you even care if we get along?”

Stiles licked his lips. “Ugh,” he groaned letting out a breath. “I… enjoy your company.”

“ _Damn_ , you’re words are going to make me emotional.”

“Oh, fuck you.”

Brett laughed quietly and shook his head. Lori had fallen into a constant state of rolling her eyes. “How about we talk about something pleasant?”

“Keep it PG rated,” Lori cackled like she’d make the best joke in the history of jokes, “I’m not eighteen yet.”

Now it was Brett who covered his face with his hand. “Please, ignore her,” he muttered, and, for the first time really, Stiles had the impression Brett was feeling awkward about something. “She doesn’t quite now what she’s talking about. It’s the full moon.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Brett ran his fingers through his hair clearing his throat. “So, why did you call me anyway?”

“I texted you to call me when you’re awake and a moment later Lori had decided to start a video chat.”

“And why did you text Brett to call you?” Lori inquired, her eyes suddenly intense through the camera. It almost felt as if she was studying him. Sometimes, Stiles tended to forget she was a force to be reckoned with. Maybe she was sweeter than her brother, but Stiles would bet money on her tearing apart anyone who dared hurting him. He appreciated her for that sentiment alone.

Stiles looked over the phone to study the empty foyer again. It’s past three now. Witching hour. The people most likely were crowding B Deck. “Scott sent me a picture of a symbol asking me if I could make anything of it. Since I don’t, I thought I might ask him,” Stiles answered.

Thunder boomed in the distance.

“What kind of symbol?” Brett asked not minding as Lori kneeled down and wrapped her arms around his shoulders propping her chin on his head. She demonstrated her boredom of the conversation by making a series of _pop_ sounds with her lips. It was hard to tell if she tried to coax a reaction out of her brother. In case that was her intention, it didn’t seem to be a fruitful attempt. Apparently, Brett had found his zen again.

Stiles opened the message Scott had sent him a few minutes after twelve. Had he switched his phone into silent mode? He'd been lying almost directly beside it. How hadn't he heard it vibrating? Whatever. He clicked on the picture and sent it to Brett, then went back to the video chat. “Done.”

Brett hummed his agreement. Lori moved her head up and down, ultimately causing him to wave her away like a fly which, in return, only caused her to amplify her attempts. “Ugh.” Brett curled his lips into a disgusted. “I thought I’d never have to see this again.”

“Where’d you see it?”

“Anthony,” Brett grumbled.

“Anthony?” Stiles asked in surprise. “So, is it a pack symbol?” He frowned. Then why was Anthony so calm about it? He had to be aware that at least Rafael knew about the supernatural world. If his pack was slaughtered by something, then why would he ask a stranger for Intel? Why not go to the respecting FBI agent and offer their help? That didn’t make _any_ sense, no matter from which way you’d look at it.

“Might be,” Brett replied curtly. “I’ve seen it three years ago. They've gotten a new alpha since then. Maybe they changed it.”

Stiles shook his head. “I doubt it,” he said bending his knees. “Five of the six victims apparently had it tattooed on their body.”

“ _Or_ ,” Lori mused pursing her lips for a moment, “they are just getting rid of the excess pack, y’know? The members who don’t like the new alpha. The Ryland pack’s prone to violence. That’s a given.”

That was a possibility. “Where’s the tattoo? I could check if it’s still there. For clarity.”

Brett didn’t meet his eye. He looked somewhere above the phone, clearly hating to talk about this particular topic. “Left hipbone.” His voice was so quiet, it’s hard to actually catch his words.

But Stiles heard him, and the two word answer was leaving a bitter taste on his tongue. “Oh, he- did he-“

“No, no. Well, I mean- talking legal, yeah, I guess.” Brett squeezed his eyes shut, seeming more embarrassed than actually uncomfortable, and rubbed his nape. “I was fifteen and into him.” Stiles gave him a sympathetic smile. It’s not like he was completely unfamiliar with the feeling. The only difference was, that neither he nor Derek acted on whatever there was between them, and when Stiles had finally turned eighteen, he had been gone and left Beacon Hills forever. “I know what you think, police boy,” Brett said shifting his gaze back to the camera. “Don’t say it out loud.”

Stiles gave him a crooked smile. “Okay.” Although he doubted Brett really knew what Stiles was thinking about. But he kept quiet anyway. It’s not exactly his favourite topic either.

Brett cleared his throat again. “I was thinking, do you have your necklace with you?”

“Yeah,” Stiles replied drawing his eyebrows in. “Why?”

“Talia Hale had a reputation. Many werewolves wouldn’t dare to touch someone wearing the Hale pack’s symbol – even though the pack, technically, isn’t around anymore. Wear it like a shield.”

Stiles couldn’t keep a quiet chuckle in. “Talk about being overprotective.”

“Humour me.” Brett smiled looking almost exhausted.

“Okay.” Stiles fumbled for the strings of the necklace Theo had given to him before they started dating as a ‘sign of his gratitude for keeping him’. Thinking about it now, Theo had come a long way. For a moment, Stiles curled his fingers around the heavy pendant; a weight he had gotten used to after weeks of wearing it and would feel naked without. “There.” He freed it completely from underneath his hoodie and dropped it onto his chest, where its light silver was a sharp contrast to the black fabric. “Happy?”

“Even more if you’ll remember to keep your mouth shut,” Brett remarked while he was struggling to free himself from his sister’s embrace.

“Don’t worry, Bruce Wayne would never tell a creep his secret identity.”

“ _Stiles_.”

“I can recognise a psychopath when I see one,” Stiles said in earnest. “And Anthony? He’s pretty much a picture perfect for a dictionary.”

“Aye, tha’ isnae nice, int it?”

Stiles flinched hard enough that he hurt his elbows at the metal wall behind him and dropped his phone. Anthony stood leaning against the door having approached as silent as only a werewolf could be. More or less unintentionally, Stiles scooted closer to the wall pressing his back against the cold metal.

“Who is this?” Brett asked alarm evident in his voice. “Is that him? Stiles?!”

“I’ll call you back,” Stiles uttered despite the alarm in Brett’s voice and hung up on him. “Detective,” he greeted him trying to regain his calm regardless of his heart’s rapid beating. His fingers shook slightly as he pulled out his earbuds to wrap the cable around his phone.

Anthony winked. “Stiles, was it?”

 _Don’t do anything that could capture his interest_. Stiles rolled his shoulders and straightened his position. This werewolf was no threat to him. He was fine. This was neutral ground. He wore the triskele like Brett had told him. “Coming in to check on the traumatised victims in the middle of the night,” Stiles said without standing up. “That’s dedication.” His legs didn’t feel as if they could support his weight if he got to his feet. But maybe staying put gave him some form of advantage, maybe it helped faking his attitude.

Chuckling Anthony pushed himself away from the door. “Ye dinnae seem tae traumatised.” He nodded in the general direction of his chest. His change in demeanour didn’t stay unnoticed. Anthony didn’t even bother to hide his being a werewolf. Good. Playing with open cards made everything a whole lot easier.

Thunder rolled over the sky in the distance. Stiles propped his arms on his knees, playing with his fingers. “What do you want?” He asked quirking a brow. A strange sense of calm settled over his body despite the lack of reasons to be calm in the first place.

Anthony crouched down in front of him. “Cu’ing righ’ tae the chase of the ma’er.” His smile never left his features. It wasn’t quite as unnerving as he most likely intended. “We’ve heard a lo’ abou’ ye,  Stiles.” With one quick movement, his fingers curled tightly around the necklace. A lucky coincidence or something to be worried about. “Derek's emissary.” Stiles’ heart skipped a beat before he reminded himself to stay calm. If he knew who he was, maybe he wouldn’t be in danger at all. Perhaps Brett had been right; especially since it seemed like nothing could stay a secret in the werewolf community, and for people who didn’t know the truth, he’d forever be the emissary of the last Hale pack. Anthony tugged at the necklace until Stiles was forced to lean forward. “The li'le kid tha' survived a nogitsune.”

Another thunder rumbled in the distance. The wind was picking up. It’s almost like the sky was telling him not to trifle with this werewolf. But Stiles was never good at heeding warnings. “Are you ever going to make your point?” He asked without breaking eye-contact. “It seems like it will rain soon.”

Anthony wrapped the thin necklace around two fingers and yanked at it again. Stiles could feel it cut into his skin as he tried to keep as much distance as possible. “Ye’ve got quite the mouth on ye.”

“We’re on neutral ground.” It needed more than scary stories and arrogant werewolves to keep him in a state of constant worry. Anthony was just another psychopath lusting after power. Still, if he worried Brett enough to issue a warning, Stiles shouldn’t push his luck too far.

Anthony tightened his grip around the necklace almost up to a point where Stiles feared it might break if he didn’t give in and moved, but then he dropped it and patted the side of his leg. “Aye, yer.” He nodded slowly. “How much dae ye know abou’ the case?”

It didn’t need much thinking to find a fitting answer. “I’m not allowed to talk about it,” Stiles replied unable to keep his hands still for even a second. “As I’ve told you before.”

Anthony’s lips twitched. “I would keep ye nose ou' of i' if I were ye.”

A gust of wind messed up Anthony’s hair. A second later, a sudden downpour drenched both of them in mere seconds. Stiles could feel the water soak through his clothes, cover every inch of his skin. Anthony shielded his eyes with a hand clearly expecting a reaction. Stiles tilted his head slightly to the right, squinting up at the werewolf. “Are you threatening us?” The rain felt cold on his skin, more uncomfortable than comforting. Water had used to have a different impact on him. Now, it was just rain.

After being fully emptied, his spark craved something different.

Stiles had an inkling of what that might be.

“Ye know wha’s happenin’ in this city,” Anthony remarked grabbing Stiles’ chin hard enough that it hurt. “The hunters dinnae know abou’ yer friends. _Yet_.” He leaned closer now, close enough that his breath warmed his wet skin. A short laugh escaped his lips. Stiles forced himself to keep the eye-contact while simultaneously pressing himself further against the cold metal at his back. “Tha’ was a threa’.” His hand moved from his chin to his hair. As he yanked at him this time, Stiles didn’t have a chance but to move. They were close now, close enough for Anthony to breathe in the scent at his neck despite the rain relentlessly slamming down on them. “Nae need tae worry,” Anthony whispered, his hot breath notable on the wet skin. “I wouldnae le' somethin' happen tae ye.”

 

The storm was still raging outside hours later. Stiles stood watching lightning crisscrossing over the dark sky in front of the windows of the conference room at the police station. He could barely make out the city in this weather. Another thunder made the floor underneath his feet rumble. He could see two detectives walk behind them in the reflection in the window. They didn't belong to the people they were waiting for. He turned away from the outside and studied the two white boards before his eyes rested on Theo, who was already looking at him.

“They’re late.”

Stiles quirked a brow. “Yeah, Scott usually misses important appointments.”

Kira looked down at her coffee cup. She had volunteered to come although Stiles had offered her the go with Lydia and try getting a hold of Chris Argent hoping to get information about the hunters currently making a mess in Long Beach, California – or rather, they wanted to validate if Anthony had told the truth. Stiles didn’t assign her to accompany him and Theo. He wanted her to meet Scott on her own terms since he was aware it made her uncomfortable being confronted with the boy she presumably still cared for; especially since they had never really talked about where they were standing. Kira had had to leave for the skinwalkers, and after that, radio silence. Stiles didn’t know who had broken contact first. He’d never considered himself to be close enough with Kira to ask such a personal question, and Scott and his relationship was a whisper of the past at best. Currently, at least.

Stiles pulled out his phone as three text messages in a row arrived. Probably from Brett. _Again_. Of course he knew Brett meant well but they all decided this morning that they would stay and deal with this problem; he wouldn’t let a group of hunters roam free for much longer. Who knew where they’d go next? Beacon Hills wasn’t exactly an unknown location for hunters. Everyone and their brother, at least when involved with the supernatural, knew that his godforsaken hometown was a hotspot for everything non-human. _If_ it were hunters, because some part of him didn’t quite believe it were. Something seemed off. Anthony had been a little too relaxed about his pack members being slaughtered.

 

                                                                       

With a sigh, he locked his display again and threw his phone on the table. Theo eyed it for a short while but didn’t reach out, although Stiles knew he’d like to. Ever since Brett and he had more contact than before, Theo had been becoming more and more inclined to catch a glimpse at his messages whenever possible. Although Stiles didn’t hide anything from him, he despised the nosiness.

Yawning, he flopped onto the chair next to Theo’s and put his head on his crossed arms. Sleep. God. He needed sleep so desperately.

The door to the conference room opened with a creak. Theo turned around on his chair to watch the people entering. Stiles moved into an upright position again. Neither Scott nor Rafael looked particularly happy as they walked towards them. He wondered if that had something to do with this meeting or something else that had happened between them. Rekindling relationships wasn’t exactly one Scott’s strong suits. Something he probably inherited from his dear old dad. “I’m sorry we’re late,” Rafael apologised coming to a stop beside the table. “Something came up.”

Stiles got to his feet. “About time.”

Scott stared at the array of free chairs before choosing one that was as far away from Kira, Stiles and Theo as possible. He didn’t even say hello. Something definitively happened between his father and him. Scott usually didn’t forget his manners unless he was seriously angry. Well, or Theo was enough of a reason. That could be a possibility as well.

A second later, Angela slipped into the room. “Rafael, I was trying to reach you,” she said, her tone level. “We had an appointment half an hour ago.” Briskly, she crossed the room to stand at the head of the table, her back to the white boards, and arms crossed tightly over her chest.  

“Something came up,” Rafael repeated glancing at Scott before walking over to the coffee machine in the corner where he busied himself with the task of making coffee like they had all the time in the world.

Stiles did not intend to have his lunch in the police department. He came here for two things, and he’d like to get them over with as quickly as possible. “Since we’re finally all here,” Stiles began the conversation without a flicker of hesitation, “I need to make a small change to our employee-employer relationship.”

Angela raised her brows more in interest than confusion. Rafael turned around with a frown. “Which would be?” Yeah, no. He still couldn’t stand this snobby jackass. Why did he even bother trying? It’s not like this was a huge surprise.

“I’m not working with you out of the goddess of my heart,” Stiles replied focusing his attention solely on Rafael who shoved his hands in the pockets of his fancy suit. “Helping you is being a threat to the safety of my pack. Something I could have calculated better if you talked to me before you dragged them into the lion’s den.” He narrowed his eyes crossing his arms over his chest. “But you only care about solving a case, right? We don’t want your precious reputation to be ruined.” Stiles couldn’t help himself. There was this certain je ne sais quoi about Rafael he disliked vastly. It didn’t have anything to do with what had happened in their past – at least not entirely. Stiles wouldn’t say it did not play a role in how their relationship ultimately developed. In the end, however, he had never like Rafael all that much, and he remembered to have been pretty happy as a child when he hadn’t been home. “I don’t have the luxury to think like that. I have a pack to protect – and this case is not going to end with an arrest. Whatever is killing these people needs to be destroyed. So, I need to know that I have permission to do whatever means necessary to achieve that.” Rafael’s lips resembled a thin white line. “Furthermore, from this point onward we’re ghosts. Nothing will link me or my pack to this case. We cannot risk any more exposure than we already have.”

Rafael snatched his coffee cup. “It’s never easy with you Stilinskis, is it?” He asked pushing his free hand in the pocket of his jeans. “Always in the need to bend some rules.” Absentmindedly, he nudged his badge with his thumb. The annoyance had turned into obvious amusement.

“There’s this attitude again,” Stiles replied propping himself against the table. “You wanted my help, these are my conditions. If you don’t like them, we’re going to drive home and you can see how to find whatever is slaughtering these poor bastards.” He shrugged tapping his fingers in an irregular rhythm. “So, what’s it gonna be?”

Theo, almost absentmindedly, hooked a finger into the left pocket of Stiles’ jeans. At first he thought Theo wanted his attention, but after glancing down at him, Stiles noted that wasn't the case. He didn’t do anything further, just kept it there and continued to look past Angela to the white boards. The pack symbol hung on the right one, around it pictures of the, sometimes destroyed, tattoos of the victims. Five out of six. Staring at the boards was almost like listening to fucking Big Bird’s ‘One of these things is not like others’ all over again. It’s fairly obvious who did not belong in each category. The mother from the Netherlands didn’t have a tattoo. The teenager was the only minor. The woman killed on the Queen Mary was the only one who hadn’t been murdered at home. But knowing that didn’t really help. It felt like a coincidence.

“We're accepting the conditions,” Angela replied nodding.

Rafael turned to look at her. “We are doing what exactly?”

“Accepting their conditions,” Angela repeated straightening her shoulders and raising her head. “And if you have a problem with that, I assume you remember where the door is.” She looked different all of the sudden, not the sweet woman Stiles had seen in her the first time they had been introduced. Now he spotted the woman that clearly got her the position; a position that seemed to be above Rafael because although he did look anything but happy about this decision, he stayed quiet shoulders slumping and with a smile on his features that couldn’t fool anybody.

Rafael cleared his throat. “I’ll go grab some lunch. Any wishes?” He glanced around the room without really looking at anybody. Everybody declined in a more or less polite fashion. Well, everyone except Scott who didn’t even turn around to acknowledge his father’s question. Then Rafael left the room, door slamming shut a little harder than expected.

Theo snorted out a laugh. “What a charming fella.”

“Some people might say the same about you, guinea pig,” Kira quipped with a small smile on her lips. Isaac had definitively rubbed off on her – and Stiles couldn’t enjoy it more.

Theo blinked for a moment, probably surprised to receive this comment from Kira who usually acted too polite for such things. He caught himself pretty quickly, however, and pointed at her through the belt loop of Stiles’ jeans. “Excuse me? I’m absolutely charming. My bad reputation was something I had to work for. He just opens his mouth.”

Stiles patted his head. “Yes, Theo. You tell that yourself.”

“Oh, so you’re the boyfriend,” Angela noted. She didn’t say anything else or looked like she was suspicious of him or anything. But she would suck as an FBI agent if she’d be that obvious. Yesterday’s events were probably still playing in her head.

Theo raised his brows. “You heard about me? I’m flattered.”

“Mhm,” Stiles hummed turning to look at Scott. “I needed to explain her that you don’t beat me up.”

Theo's head whipped around, his eyes dangerously narrowed. Kira covered her mouth with one hand. Usually, nobody would expect Scott to do something this drastic. But when it came to Theo even the worst seemed suddenly possible. “That’s pathetic,” Theo said in a low voice. “Even for you.”

“I didn’t say anything!” Scott retorted raising his voice with every spoken tone. “While you were waking Liam, Mason and Corey, my dad asked me what happened between us. I told him you're in a relationship with someone, I don’t trust and that I don’t understand what you see in him.” He raised his hands. “It’s not my fault my dad-“

“Yes, it’s not your fault an FBI agent assumed the worst after a statement like that,” Stiles snapped curling his hands into fists.

Scott rose to his feet. “I will not pretend to like him after what he had done.”

“You don’t want to discuss this inside of a police station,” Stiles warned.

“Why are you afraid of what I might spill?”

Stiles pressed his hands against the table, knuckles white under the pressure of keeping them someplace they couldn’t do any harm. “No,” he said trying to keep his voice as steady as possible. “Because you’re going down, too.”

“I thought we're supposed to start over,” Scott remarked bitterly crossing his arms, “I thought this isn’t about Theo.”

“If you go after my pack, I’ll go after you,” Stiles explained matter-of-fact. He’d gone after werewolves with a wooden baseball bat. He’d spent a whole goddamn summer break to find two pack members who’d been kidnapped by the Alpha Pack. He’d tried to free Boyd and Erica even before he had been aware to which pack he had belonged during that time. He had been ready to get shot in order to protect his friends. Stiles wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty to safe someone’s life; especially not if the damsel in distress was a member of his pack or family. “You didn’t hear me whine as Allison tried to murder my pack, did you? I swallowed the bitter pill and kept my mouth shut because I knew you loved her.”

“What does Allison have to do with all this?”

Stiles freed the necklace and dropped it in the middle of the table. “While you were too busy falling in love and looking for help somewhere else, I found a pack.” He watched Scott make a reluctant grab for the pendant, recognition visible on in his expression. “I was his emissary. I am who I am today because of him. You took me for granted. He didn’t.” Stiles yanked the necklace out of Scott’s loose grip and curled his fingers protectively around the triskele. “And when I didn’t fit your perfect pack anymore, you cast me aside.”

“That’s not true.” Scott shook his head, then bit the inside of his cheek looking down at the table. Behind him, the door’s lock clicked. Nobody entered, and nobody outside could be seen near it. Maybe Rafael hadn’t locked it properly.

Stiles forced his attention away from the ajar door. “So,” he whispered, nails digging into the palms of his hands, “where did we go wrong? What made you believe I was capable of bludgeoning someone to death?”

Scott looked up again. “You really wanna know?”

“Yes.”

Scott opened his mouth, closed it, then seemed to steel himself. “Every time I look at you, I see _it_. I see the monster that murdered my first love. I see the freak that tortured me with a katana.” A lightning strike illuminated the room. Stiles raised a hand to shield his eyes. As he lowered it, he was staring at a face too close for comfort; a face he’d see every time he looked in the mirror. “I see the real you.”

Stiles woke with a start. His neck ached as he raised his head from his crossed arms. Groaning quietly, he rubbed his nape. “Why did you let me fall asleep?”

Theo quirked a brow and looked at him over the rim of his coffee cup. “Because I’m an awesome boyfriend,” he deadpanned before taking a sip from his hot beverage. Kira chuckled quietly smiling softly at Stiles, but Theo wore a rather sour expression. “So,” he asked setting his coffee cup down, “what did you dream about?”

Stiles rolled his neck and shoulders, then cleared his throat. “Nothing.”

“Nothing, _wow_ ,” Theo drawled putting his cup down. “Don’t get too creative with your lies, someone might believe you.”

Kira glanced awkwardly at the table top running her fingers through her hair. If she tried to become invisible, she definitively needed to do some work on her tactics. Apart from Corey, who was an expert in this for obvious reasons, Liam was very good at making himself as inconspicuous as possible.

“Theo, please-“

“Do you remember that conversation in which we agreed that we would talk to each other?” Theo turned on his chair and crossed his arms, leaning back with a raised brow. “Or did I have that with myself? Because I could’ve _sworn_ someone replied.”

Stiles ran his hands over his face, meeting Theo’s raised eyebrows with an exhausted smile. Some part of him wanted to discuss this right here, right now; risking a fight even though the moment wasn’t right. Stiles hooked one foot around the leg of his chair and moved it and himself closer to Theo. “Can we talk about it later?” He asked drawing small circles on his thigh. “Please?”

Theo drew out his sigh longer than what should be humanly possible. “Is later inside a time period where we are alive?”

“As soon as we’re back on the ship.” Stiles hooked two fingers into the collar of Theo’s sweater and pulled him close. “Pinkie promise.” Although his annoyance was still somewhat palpable, he compliantly held still while Stiles inched closer. Being aware of this behaviour, he interlocked his fingers behind Theo’s nape to keep him locked in place. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d been teased for a single kiss. To get what he wanted, Stiles got up from the chair, held Theo in place and pecked his lips.

Kira chuckled. “You two…”

Stiles wiggled his brows laughing as Theo wrapped his arms around his waists to pull him between his legs. With a smirk, Theo tipped his head back and propped his chin on his midriff, maybe an inch underneath his belly button. It could be so easy between them, so perfect. Stiles leaned down to kiss him again, and this time Theo craned his neck to meet him. “You’re incredible exhausting."

“That’s why you love me,” Stiles reminded him ruffling the perfectly styled hair.

Kira laughed this time.

Grinning, Stiles reached for his phone checking the time. Rafael and Angela were almost over half an hour late, and after his night, Stiles really wanted to get something done. After dropping his phone back on the table, he glanced back into the main room of the police station. People were buzzing, walking up and down, talking, some even arguing. None of the FBI agent were in, or at least, they weren’t in  the main room where Stiles could see them right now. But he saw someone else.

Anthony.

Stiles tapped Theo’s forehead with his finger. “I’ll gotta go to the restroom real quick.”

“Okay.”

While crossing the main office, Stiles tried his best not to act out of the order. He didn’t hurry, although he wanted to get to the restroom as quickly as possible. If Rafael and Angela wouldn’t get their asses over here in time, someone had to take matters into their own hand. They needed to figure out if Anthony was lying or not. They also needed to figure out if the people murdered were part of his pack or not; and what’s the worst that could happen inside a police station? He doubted Anthony would do anything here that might risk putting him in a bad light.

Stiles slipped into the restroom closing the door firmly behind him. A key would be amazing but he’d take what he would get. He leaned against the door rapping his fingers against the painted door. Anthony looked at him in the reflection of the mirror. He flicked some water off his hands before closing the tap and grabbing a bunch of paper towels, never taking his eyes off Stiles. “Did ye miss me?”

“I know about your tattoo.”

Anthony turned around discarding the wet paper towels with a flick of his wrist. “Tattoo?”

“And I know what you did three years ago,” Stiles said in a low voice crossing his arms. This time, he wouldn’t be backed into a corner. He came in with a plan. He had the upper hand. Although he had yet to get evidence, but as long as he didn’t let that show, he should be perfectly fine.

“Ye’ve go’ some nerves.”

“You think you’re the only one who can make threats?” Stiles pushed himself off the door.

Anthony slammed him back against it, one arm pressed against his collarbones. His chest burst with pain. “Careful, laddie.” There wasn’t a smile on his lips this time. “We wouldnae wan' tae ruin ye pre'y face, would we?”

Stiles tried to be unimpressed but Anthony didn’t make that easy. “Who’s killing your pack, Detective?”

“Takes one tae know one, eh?” Suddenly, Anthony grabbed the collar of his shirt and smashed him into the sink. Another surge of pain rushed through his chest, spread into his shoulders and vibrated in his bones. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to keep tears away and locked his cry underneath his jaw. “Look at ye,” Anthony snarled burying his fingers in the strands of his hair without mercy. It would take one forcefully executed movement, and Stiles would be in serious trouble. He might be marginally stronger than a normal human, but if his face was smashed into this mirror, his attitude wouldn’t save his ass. “Look at yer eyes.” Anthony let go of Stiles’ hair and instead caged him in with his arms and body. “Did ye ever wonder wha’ colour they’d have if ye we’re a werewolf?”

Stiles clenched his jaw. Of course, he did. But it’s not like he was going to tell a random stranger anything about that. “Why would I?” He asked his voice a lot calmer than he was really feeling; and his heart decided not to make a secret out of it. “It’s not like I killed these people myself, did I?”

Anthony chuckled; a sound Stiles felt against his back more than he heard it. “Ye nae tha’ cold. Ye’re here ‘cause ye wan’ tae protec’ ye friends.” _If only you knew_. “Like Brett, eh? These cute late nigh’ calls? Are ye gonna lock me up cause of him?” Stiles curled his fingers around the sink, knuckles turning white. He didn’t want to drag Brett into this, not at all. But as long as Anthony's focus was on someone who wasn’t here, on someone who was far away from Long Beach and within the safety of his own pack, Theo, Kira, Isaac and Lydia, even Scott, they were all safe. “Dae ye think he’d mind if I steal ye away?”

“I was kidnapped before, you can’t scare me.”

“I’m nae talkin’ kidnappin’.” Anthony smirked showing sharp canines. But that’s not what caught Stiles’ attention, it’s not what made him freeze. His whole body went rigid as red bled into blue. No- no, no, no. This wasn’t happening, was it? This couldn’t be happening. This wasn’t right. He was a beta. He was second in command. He was supposed to be second in command.

Anthony wasn’t supposed to be a fucking _alpha_.


	4. Chapter 4

There were only two options he could choose between: be an idiot or close his eyes and hope for the best. Everyone knew Stiles was anything but a complete and utter moron. But he also had gone after alphas and berserkers with a baseball bat.

Sue him.

Stiles took a breath, eradicated the fear from his expression and looked Anthony in the eye. “You think you can scare me but you can't.” His heart slowed, almost as if his body believed the bullshit his mouth was releasing into the world. Stiles couldn’t tell if he was impressed by himself or should be permitted to talk to homicidal psychopaths around the world until the day he would inevitably die because he poked something lethal with a stick.

Anthony raised his brows, then he honest to god laughed. A sound extremely reminiscent of Donovan, who’d been exceedingly giddy before proclaiming that he'd intended to eat his legs. _Fun times_. “I can see wha’ the nogitsune liked about ye,” Anthony nodded more to himself than Stiles, it seemed. “There’s this li’le somethin’ special abou’ ye.”

“It’s called attitude.”

“Seems like I have to teach ye some manners.”

Stiles raised a brow. “Is that why you killed them? They didn’t learn their lesson?”

Andrew leaned closer, his face now right beside Stiles. “I’m a patien’ teacher,” he whispered, and Stiles couldn’t help but draw away. “And I never fail once I find the righ’ incentive.” He locked eyes with him again. “What's yers? Is i’ Brett?”

“Because I talked to him at night?” Stiles retorted pushing Anthony far enough away that he could turn around and face him properly. “You must’ve had a very lonely childhood, man.”

Anthony chuckled again. He didn’t step away, but he didn’t make the impression like he was about to bite him anytime soon. Perhaps _because_ he didn’t have any kind of leverage over him. Smart move, at least in the grand scheme of things, Anthony appeared to be smarter than Peter. He wouldn’t just give a random stranger even more power for the sake of a new follower. The risk of being overthrown and killed was too high. Arrogance didn’t always equal stupidity- and that made Anthony a lot more dangerous.

“I always ge’ wha’ I wan’.” Anthony finally stepped further away, giving Stiles more room to manoeuvre. With the threat momentarily gone, he finally could breath a little easier again. Which, in retrospect, might not have been the best outcome.

Stiles pushed himself off the sink and straightened his position. He was still a hell of a lot shorter than Anthony, also weaker, but that didn’t stop him from running his mouth. “I'd never bow down for someone like you.”

“I’m aware, otherwise I would’ve bi’en ye here and now.” Anthony put a hand on Stiles’ chest, almost contemplating as he listened intently to his heartbeat. “Ye’re going to make a good werewolf.”

“I hope you remember these words when you’re choking on your own blood.”

Anthony laughed. “Forcing ye into submission will be so satisfying.” He patted Stiles’ cheek before striding out of the restroom as if he’d already won the battle.

The second the door fell shut, Stiles’ legs gave way, and as the adrenaline dwindled the pain in his chest grew worse again. It’s a rather uncomfortable reminder of his still healing ribs. He’s gotten used to the ache, mostly, and the whole werewolf mojo certainly helped his healing process along. But he shouldn’t forget that it’s only been a little over two weeks – and it usually took up four to six weeks until an injury like this was fully healed. After Anthony’s treatment, however, even the breathing started to hurt again. Since his pain medicine was werewolf, Theo would be delighted to know that his ribs weren’t quite in the state Stiles had pretended them to be in, so he could go on this trip without having Theo mothering him the whole goddamn time.

In retrospect, _fuck_ this trip.

He curled his fingers around the sink's edges, knuckles turning white under pressure. _Okay_ , he thought squeezing his eyes shut. _Calm down. This threat means nothing. You survived worse._ It had become some sort of mantra over time but it had solidified in the last two weeks. _You survived worse._ People wondered what could be worse than being dead for almost half an hour. _Going out of your mind. Being possessed. Seeing yourself hurt those you care about and feel_ good _about it._ That’s worse, and he had survived that. Barely. Still struggling. But Stiles supposed that’s what survivors did for the rest of their life. _Struggle_. With daily things. That woman that looked at you weird – was she about to hurt you or had you done something odd without noticing? Wondering, after pushing your boyfriend away again, if that was normal or if there was something wrong with you; and how long would he put up with it anyway before he blew up? The need to always close a door when it’s ajar, but never lock it. Just close it. Maybe you’d need to get out but couldn’t. Repeatedly telling people you were fine, and then thinking, did you say it too often? Why did you even say it; to convince yourself or the others?

Stiles blinked his eyes open, one by one. He probably should get out of here, or Theo and Kira would wonder where he’d ended up – or if he’d been kidnapped again. Considering Theo’s behaviour this option seemed more likely than any other. He was about to force himself away from the sink keeping him upright, his legs finally felt a little more stable, when the door opened. His eyes widened slightly, but it was a young teenager entering the restroom. As he caught sight of Stiles, the boy quickly rubbed his red, puffy eyes. He’d been crying; and it’s not the ‘I hurt my knee’ kind of crying. It was the kind of crying that  came from tragedy; the kind of crying that came from deep emotional pain. Stiles grew rigid as he noticed it. He sensed it like one would sense too much perfume on a person, when the scent is strong enough that you could taste it on your tongue.

Wordlessly, the boy shuffled to the sinks to wash his face with more water than strictly necessary. Stiles should leave. He really, really needed to leave. But his feet wouldn’t move. He was rooted to the ground. All he could manage was to look _away_ so he didn’t appear to be a complete freak. His fingers almost clawed at the porcelain, as if preparing to fight against the rational behaviour Stiles’ brain tried to cook up.

The little boy started crying again, barely audible above the sound of running water. Out of the corner of his eye, Stiles saw his shoulders twitch and move – and his own body acted like it had been starving for far too long. Suddenly, all Stiles could think about was the emotional pain this boy suffered through, and that he needed it. Was this how a nogitsune felt? A bloodhound for every horrible feeling in the world?

_Leave._

Stiles reached a hand out to put it on the boy’s shoulder who flinched at the contact and looked up. Now, Stiles saw that the kid most likely didn’t go to High School yet. He looked too young to be a Junior next fall. “Hey,” he said quietly trying his best not to act like a complete buffoon; although he was pretty damn close. “Are you okay?”

The boy shot him a dirty look.

“Okay, stupid question.” Stiles offered a weary smile. “I jus- can I help you?” This was stupid. He was stupid. But... but he needed _more_ , more of this pain, more of this- Stiles pulled his hand back clenching it into a tight fist. _No_. No.

The boy laughed bitterly. “Only if you have a Shinigami on hand.”

Stiles opened his mouth, blinked, then shook his head. “Uh, my Japanese is a little rosty-“

“It’s a-“ The boy stopped shaking his head. “Never mind.“

 _Thank god_. Stiles did his due. He asked if he was okay, now he could leave. He needed to leave because this kid’s emotions were so not cool. He felt like suffocating, _drowning_. Or rather, he felt like starving, like he was dying of thirst directly in front of a fucking buffet; just thinking about it made bile rise in Stiles’ throat. Fantastic, now he was seconds away from throwing up – and the longer he stood here, the more he could feel the pain soak into his skin. He suddenly understood why drug addicts chased their next high. The worst about this was the fact that he remembered this feeling all too well. It’s the nogitsune all over again, when pain was good and happiness tasted rotten on his tongue.

“Hey, are you okay?” The kid asked. Now he attempted to put a hand on Stiles’ shoulder but he flinched away, afraid of contact. “You look sick, man.”

“I’m fine,” Stiles muttered pulling out his phone. Theo's text message saved him from further inquiry.

 

 

“You fully healed,” Theo insisted throwing a hand in the air, “where’s the problem with that?”

Stiles drew in a breath. “The problem is, I healed because of the pain of another person. A _child_.”

“So? You didn’t hurt him yourself.”

“Theo, it’s... do you even know what that means?”

“Okay so, don’t get me wrong, but-“ Isaac squinted first at Stiles, then the fork holding on to the piece of cake he was about to eat and up again- “wasn't having the powers of a nogitsune the whole reason why Annabelle wanted to kill you dead?” That was not quite the reaction he had expected from his pack. They all seemed so _calm_. Theo simply looked at him without an amount of concern visible on his features – and that was the least surprising reaction. Stiles had been pretty sure Theo couldn’t care less how much vicious creature was crawling underneath his skin. But that even Lydia and Kira resumed their respective muffins unflinchingly felt completely out of the range of possibility.

“Feeding off tragedy and pain to regain my power?” Stiles pushed his own plate away from him coaxing Theo to roll his eyes. “I can’t do that!”

Lydia sighed. “And why is that?”

“You’re sleeping with a walking tragedy,” Isaac chimed in before Stiles had the chance to answer. “I don’t see the problem.”

Theo didn’t deign the comment with an obvious reaction, but Stiles noticed his jaw tighten. Since his hospitalization, the relationship between the two of them had grown worse again. Stiles assumed it happened because of Theo's catastrophic reaction to Brett saving his life. But whenever he had attempted to talk to them about the real reason, they had brushed it off pretending absolutely nothing was wrong. Stiles had no clue why they thought he was as observant as a brick wall. He’d get the truth out of them eventually.

“Could you take this a little more serious?” Stiles snapped.

Isaac pointed his fork at him. “I am taking this serious,” he announced around a mouthful of cake. Lydia _tsked_ , and Isaac swallowed before continuing. “It would be just this one time, tho, right? After that, you’d be peachy again.”

“Am I?”

“You've had part nogitsune inside you all this time,” Theo reminded him pushing the plate back in front of him without being subtle at all. “I don’t get why you’re so worried now.”

Lydia nodded at these words.

“I’m worried because that’s _all I feel_ ,” Stiles hissed slapping Theo's hand away from his plate. His stomach still threatened to turn over, he was not going to eat anything anytime soon no matter how much he was pushed to; especially not fucking cake. That would be begging for a date with the loo.

“Stiles,” Lydia said putting her cutlery down, “let’s regard this reasonable. You woke up normally the first time, correct? When Derek was in danger of drowning. Then you sacrificed yourself subsequently giving away all your power.” She paused a second, almost as if to make sure he could follow. Stiles tried not to be too insulted by that. “Because of that you’ve been possessed by a nogitsune, and either you used its power to create a new body or it created a new body for you. Whichever is true, this body is based on a nogitsune’s magic. So, it’s not particularly surprising that you need its power source, too.”

Stiles blinked. “That’s not as reassuring as you think.”

“I don’t think you’ll become like a nogitsune,” Kira mused running her finger along the edge of her plate. The muffin laid half-eaten and seemingly forgotten in its middle.

“Because not every monster does monstrous things?” Stiles asked deadpan. Lydia shot him a dark look.

Isaac massacred his cake for a second then dropped his fork. “Is this about Donovan again?” He narrowed his eyes ever so slightly. “You survived. Of course, you feel good when a lethal threat is destroyed. I don’t get why you’re so-“

“How can you be so calm about everything?”

“It’s one of humanity's debates since the invention of weapons,” Lydia chimed in with a raised brow. “Who is to blame? The inventor, the weapon itself or the one who used it?”

Stiles glanced at Theo, who didn’t seem like he had been able to follow her either. “We're talking about me feeling good about murdering someone,” he clarified with a raised brow.

“We’re talking about you feeling good about survival.”

“That doesn’t make your metaphor any clearer,” Theo uttered pulling Stiles' plate towards him, obviously having given up on trying to make him eat.

Lydia sighed impatiently. “Stiles had no chance to make a choice. His hand was forced, hence, he was the gun in this situation.” She pointed at him before rapping her nails against the table top. “Who forced your hand? Theo had made Donovan to go after you-“ Theo cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably on his chair. Lydia shot him a scolding look. Stiles put a hand on his thigh under the table. “But ultimately, Donovan was already set on hunting a Stilinski down. Maybe he would've chosen you either way. After all, you pissed him off enough that he wanted to jump you inside the police station.” This time, the scolding look was directed at Stiles, who offered her a weak grin in return.

“Who created the gun?” Kira asked tilting her head slightly.

Lydia hesitated for a moment. Obviously, someone didn’t quite think this through. Stiles rolled his eyes. “Listen, nice metaphor, really, but I don’t know why this is in any way related to my current situation.”

“I am trying to say,” Lydia began sounding irritated about his reaction, “that you only act when there is no other way out. That goes for Donovan as much as it counts for the churel. We all knew she wouldn’t let Isaac go-“

“Bloody hell,” Isaac interrupted her loudly. “He doesn’t want to listen to logic, and I’m more the pragmatic type of guy.” Despite the indignant look he was shot, Isaac continued leaning over the table with a small smirk. “You’re afraid to freak out? Be afraid. I’m not. You wanna know why?” He waited just long enough for Stiles to raise his brows inquiringly. “I know how to put you down.”

“What?” Now Lydia seemed to be at a loss, but Stiles knew exactly what Isaac was taking about.

“You gave me the kanima venom because you knew I’d do what I had to. I have something with me, every time we leave for a case.” They had talked about it. _Just in case_. “And now I can empty your spark. Brett taught me how. So, by all means – I’m not afraid of you.” Isaac sounded sincere, but Stiles wondered how much truth lied behind his words. Glancing at Theo didn’t gave an answer. His expression was carefully void of any emotion.

Lydia took his hand squeezing tightly. Stiles offered her a small smile.

“Do you think that’s how alphas control them?” Kira asked quietly.

Isaac pulled a face. “Someone like Anthony for sure.”

Kira contemplated something for a few moments, then she looked at Stiles. “Do you really think he is killing his pack?”

And with that, the debate about the possibility of him being a danger was over. Stiles massaged the bridge of his nose with a sigh. He wasn’t mad at them and their lack of response. He just wished, they could have taken his restlessness away. There was still this particular lingering doubt nagging at the back of his mind. Perhaps, when this clusterfuck of a case was over, he needed to bite the bullet and talk to Satomi about some things regarding voids. But for now, he would have to focus solely on saving this pack – if that was even a possibility. With things getting as risky as they currently were, maybe they should be retreating back to Beacon Hills and help from afar.

“Yeah,” Stiles replied eventually. “He wants us to stay out of it. I mean, he threatened to sell us out to hunters which aren’t even here. Lori's probably right, and this is all just about power. Deucalion’s done it, too.”

“But he killed his pack to gain their power,” Theo reminded him crossing his arms over his chest. “He taught me how, remember?”

“What if he’s just weeding out the weak?”

Theo didn’t look convinced but simply shrugged in the end.

“He was also talking about teaching me some manners.” Stiles slumped against the back of his chair, sighing. “Maybe they didn’t learn their lesson. I don’t know.” Isaac, Kira and Lydia  joined Theo in looking rather unconvinced. Of course, it’s not exactly the norm for alphas to murder their own pack members; even for people like Anthony. But if it wasn't him, why would he be so relaxed about his pack being slaughtered? It didn't make any sense at all. Then again, Derek hadn’t wanted help with the alpha pack either. Maybe it’s just about pride. “I don’t know. It’s- I probably wouldn’t be so paranoid about this guy if Brett wasn't warning me about him all the time.”

Lydia tsked. “I’m offended. You’re never taking us seriously when we warn you about something.”

“That's because you're freaking out about everything,” Stiles deadpanned.

“We're not,” Isaac scoffed crossing his arms indignantly.

“Do I need to remind you of the last two weeks?” Stiles asked sharply raising his brows. “You were on my ass all the fucking time. We had more rules like a six-year-old. That was also the last time I actually had a fixed time to go to bed. Seriously.” He was very aware that the therapist, which Stiles had refused to talk to during his hospitalisation, had recommended his dad and Jordan that Isaac and he should have a structured daily routine to help them feel normal again. Said routine included breakfast, lunch and dinner, as well as getting out and into bed. Stiles had been waiting for playdates and times he would be allowed to watch TV.

“That’s because you come up with stupid shit like blood magic,” Theo remarked grabbing the fork to eat Stiles’ neglected cheesecake.

“I was talking about Isaac and mine 24/7 supervision by all of you guys,” Stiles said glancing at his fellow sufferer who stared down at his phone for a few moments, eyebrows drawn in.

As Isaac looked up, he glanced at Theo for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, that was a little over the top.”

“That’s a matter of opinion,” Lydia replied and grabbed her fork to continue her muffin.

Isaac rolled his eyes heavenward before dropping his phone beside his almost fully eaten cake. “Did you and Brett talk about anything exciting last night?” Although Stiles was glad about the change in topic, the question struck him as odd. Perhaps because it almost sounded too casual. Lydia’s curious glance probably didn’t help either. They had already talked about it shortly after Stiles had hurried back to their suite to inform his pack about what had happened.

“Only Anthony and how Satomi’s taking him firmly in hand,” Stiles replied shrugging. He wouldn’t exactly go in depth about this conversation; just because Brett had told him didn’t mean he would be okay if everyone knew about what had happened between him and Anthony three years ago. “Your name came up, too,” Stiles added turning to look at Theo.

“Oh joy,” Isaac commented.

Theo glowered at him. “You talked about me?” He asked then crossing his arms.  

“Yeah, Brett hates you. He made that abundantly clear.” Stiles grabbed his coffee cup and frowned as he found it empty. “But he said he’d behave if you behaved.” It was frustrating enough that he had to have this conversation because Theo didn’t do it on his own. Of course, he could be a jackass and let him run straight into Brett’s waiting fist. However, he actually cared about this stubborn idiot, and although he didn’t want to serve as his social worker, Stiles could hardly deny that his dear boyfriend was incapable of solving some things on his own without them escalating.

Said boyfriend quirked a brow. “Why should I?”

Stiles shot him a look. “Because I’m asking you nicely,” he explained in a warning tone. Isaac and Kira exchanged a short glance, both looking rather uncomfortable. “Also, he saved my life and stopped you from killing that one time- least you can do is act like a fucking adult.”

Theo rolled his eyes. “He isn’t even pack.”

“Oh, get over yourself,” Lydia chimed not even the tiniest bit uncomfortable about anything right now. Stiles was incredible thankful for that. But that didn’t count for everybody at the table. Theo disliked being scolded for misbehaviour – and he outright hated it when it came from someone other than Stiles. His anger hung thick in the air leaving a sour taste on his tongue. It’s almost as if that boy’s despair had opened the floodgates, as if his spark remembered how to work, where to draw power from. Or perhaps these last two weeks had been exactly as harmonic as he had imagined them to be. There were endless possibilities. Stiles didn’t like any of them since they all resolved in him craving these emotions without a way to stop taking them. There had to be a way to shut them out. There just _had to_.

After a few moments of contemplation, Theo shot her a sharp smile. “I don’t like him.”

“You don’t like anything.”

“I like this cake, sex and Stiles. Since I have all three, I can allow myself the freedom of disliking a single thing.” The sex part obviously wasn’t quite true. Since Stiles had come back out of the hospital, zero sexy time had happened. Partly because his chest and lower back had been nasty bitches – and even after the wounds on his lower back had healed, his chest was asshole enough for both of them. But for the most reason, Stiles neither had the energy nor the right mind set for any kind of intimacy.

Isaac let out a breath. “How very mature of you.”

“I’m trying my best.”

“Well,” Isaac announced chucking his phone on the table. “I’ll get more coffee. Guinea pig, help me carry.” Without asking anyone if they even intended to drink another coffee, he got to his feet.

Theo looked up at him, brow raised. “Get someone else to do it.”

“Come _here_ ,” Isaac snapped and, without much preamble, grabbed the collar of his shirt to yank him to his feet. For the low growl that followed this particular treatment, Isaac smacked him over the head, then grabbed his shoulder to lead him back to the barista, who had tried to charm Kira by making her his special. She had acted so shy, it was adorable.

Lydia squinted after them. “Am I the only one who finds that a little odd?”

“No,” Kira replied cocking her head slightly to one side.

Right now, Stiles was more impressed about Theo not retaliating after being smacked, even if it wasn’t that hard. “They’ve been behaving strangely since the incident,” he remarked after a few moments in which he had been more than aware of being stared at. “At first I thought Isaac was just being angry on Brett’s behalf…” Not that Brett needed anyone being angry on his behalf. The guy was so zen ninety-eight percent of the time that pissing him off seemed like an achievement on his own – which Liam had scored _twice_. Stiles didn’t even have a clue where to begin; aside from going after Lori. “But I don’t know. If that’s it, I’m not quite sure why they’d dodge the question.”

“Well,” Lydia began suddenly sounding a little hesitant as she drew the vowel long and longer, “maybe Theo knows something Isaac doesn’t want him to know and he’s-“

“Don’t even start,” Stiles interrupted her curtly.

Lydia pursed her lips. “He’s done it before.”

“That was different.” Theo might be morally grey, and he most likely was never going to be the person who would always make the right decision when it came down to right versus personal gain. Exceptions proved the rule, of course, however, Stiles couldn’t see any form of an advantage for Theo in blackmailing Isaac. There wasn’t anything Isaac could give him, and the risk of Stiles finding out was far too high. Consequences versus gain did not go in favour of blackmailing. “Whatever it is, they’ll come around eventually.” Because they certainly shared a secret, but it was one neither wanted to spill for different reasons – otherwise Theo would have already told Stiles because he usually didn’t keep secrets if they weren’t his own or considered them unimportant and telling them wouldn’t have any kind of negative consequences.

“We could snoop,” Lydia suggested grabbing Isaac’s phone. “Does anyone know his code?”  

Stiles did. It was the date he had been turned into a werewolf. “We’re not going to invade his privacy, Lydia.”

She looked almost appalled at his decision. “Aren’t you the least bit curious?”

“Still no reason to snoop.”

Kira drew her eyebrows in as Lydia rapped her nails against the phone’s display, feverishly thinking about something to persuade Stiles; it’s remarkable, she even listen to him in the first place. “What if,” she stated excitedly pointing at him, “he’s crushing on Brett. They’ve been hanging out a lot. Maybe he doesn’t know how to tell you he’s into someone from a different pack.”

Stiles doubted she believed a word she had just said. Even Kira seemed anything but convinced. “He isn’t,” he replied then running a hand through his hair. “Isaac and I do talk about these things.” After all, Stiles had noticed that they were hanging out increasingly more as well. He wasn’t blind. Also, with Brett being openly bisexual and Isaac stating that he did not so much care about gender but rather needing an emotional connection before even thinking about sex or romance, it hadn’t seemed too far out of the picture. So Stiles had asked, but Isaac had declined; a response which had been genuine.

Perhaps Lydia didn’t know about that. Stiles couldn’t tell how open Isaac was about these things, since the topic had only come up twice – once when they’d been alone and another time with Liam around, although his statement might not have been direct enough for the other werewolf to put two and two together.

“Give it a rest, Lydia,” Stiles added after she’d pursed her lips at him. “Would you like me to go through your phone?”

“You let Danny hack into other people’s privacy.”

“I draw the line at you guys.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet,” she drawled before putting Isaac’s phone back where she had snatched it from.

Kira chuckled at her reaction. She was the type of person who wouldn’t read a text message even if someone else practically shoved it in her face. Stiles usually wasn’t. He had been the type of guy who had tried to go through other people’s phones when he had the feeling they were keeping secrets. But he couldn’t do that _and_ scold Theo for doing literally the same thing. “Stiles is right,” she agreed then kindly ignoring Lydia rolling her eyes. “Whatever it is, they’ll tell us eventually.” Kira looked past Stiles then, and her face did a very weird thing which made Lydia and Stiles turn around instantly.

“Hey,” Scott greeted, approaching the table hesitantly.

Stiles turned away from him again. “Hey,” he replied coolly. Lydia and Kira stayed quiet, with the latter concentrating on the rest of her muffin.

Scott cleared his throat. “My dad wants me to stay here until he’s done.”

“Ship’s big enough,” Theo declared sitting back down with two coffee cups in hand as well as a salad, which he dropped unceremoniously in front of Stiles. _Of course_. As much as he appreciated his concern, Stiles really didn’t want to strain his stomach any more than he currently did by drinking coffee. Squinting, Theo checked one of the cups. “Soy?”

Lydia reached for it. “That’s me.”

Theo shook his head while Isaac was pulling a face. “I have no idea how you can drink that,” he muttered putting one cup in front of him and distributing the other two between Kira and Stiles, who had both chosen a very normal coffee with a bit of milk and sweetener. Isaac had turned out to be one of these weird people who put any variation of nut flavoured syrup they could find into their coffee. Theo drank it straight up black. The most experimenting he had done with his coffee was that one time he had tried caffè mocha which he ended up hating and talked Stiles into switching their drinks.     

“Do you want something?” Theo asked after a moment of silence turning to look at Scott.

“Can I sit down?”

Stiles wrapped his fingers around his coffee cup, glancing from Kira to Scott and then staring at his salad. “I don’t know, can you?” Theo bought the good one with roasted carrots and kale. His stomach rumbled. Okay. So, he was hungry, and maybe salad wouldn’t be too bad. He could keep the coffee in, too.

“Soo,” Lydia chirped a little louder than strictly necessary while Scott was sitting down on the chair between Isaac and Theo, who had deliberately kept the empty chair for distance, “what did you two talk about?”

“Nothing,” Isaac and Theo responded simultaneously.

Stiles squinted at them. “That must be the first time you agree on something.”

Isaac shifted in his seat, grabbed his phone and put it back down. “Let’s get back on topic.”

“Which one?” Lydia asked resuming to eat her muffin. “Stiles, Anthony or Brett and Theo’s eternal hatred.” She blew him a kiss, cackling quietly as she was flipped off in response. Although it was nice to see that all of them were getting along better and better, Stiles would appreciate if they did not make fun of Theo’s temper tantrums and their ramifications.

“Anthony and the case,” Isaac replied shaking his head.

Stiles scoffed. “Only if Lydia isn’t going to come up with metaphors again.”

“It’s not my fault you cannot follow my train of thoughts.”

Theo quirked a brow. “Maybe because you got on the wrong train yourself.”

“Excuse me?”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Kira, I meant to ask you,” he said then noticing that she felt rather awkward at Scott’s presence here. Which didn’t really come as a surprise. Nobody at the table – aside from Theo – was quite sure how to handle him. But Kira was in the same unfortunate position Stiles found himself in. He tapped his finger against the paper cup. “What’s a Shinigami?”

She blinked. “A Shinigami?”

“That’s a God of Death,” Theo answered around the cake less fork.

“ _A_ God of Death?” Stiles asked in confusion. “Like a reaper?” He knew the gist of the whole scenario, although he mostly knew about Death and its little workers, who reaped the souls of the dead to lead them to whatever place the respective religion believed in. He wasn’t aware there existed more than one _God_ of Death.

Kira contemplated in silence for a little while. “God of Death or Death Angel, both translations are perfectly fine.” She took a sip of her coffee, pulled a face and put the cup back down again. “But, yeah, essentially they are reapers.” The Japanese lessons she took from her mother came to fruition. She looked very proud about it.

“How do _you_ know about that?” Last time Stiles checked, Theo did not speak Japanese. 

“Don’t tell me you never watched Death Note?”

“No.”

“Isn't that the anime where this guy kills people with a notebook?” Kira asked leaning a little forward both hands wrapped around her paper cup. She kept her attention everywhere but Scott, who in return watched her closely. That's what regret looked like. Stiles hoped it hurt; or maybe not because he'd rather not feel that as well. 

Theo took a sip off his coffee nodding. “That's the one. “

Isaac scrunched up his face. “How does a notebook kill people?”

“The Death Note is bound to a Shinigami,” Kira answered, “and, correct me if I’m wrong, you need to write down the person’s full name and know their face for the victim to die in a set amount of time. You can also specify how they get killed, if you so desire.”

Stiles pressed the edge of his coffee cup against his bottom lip, contemplating her words. Something like that would explain the missing fingerprints, how the killer would get into the places without opening anything, without actually _being_ there. It would also be impossible to prove. Perfect for a detective who didn’t want to be caught while weeding out the weak werewolves; assuming that was the case. But truth be told, Anthony seemed to be the only sensible lead they had currently – and Stiles was ready to accept anything at this point.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Theo said opening the salad and taking the paper cup out of his hand. “And no.”

“I really don’t get why you still doubt so many things after everything we’ve seen,” Stiles replied reaching for his coffee while continuing to ignore the food in front of him.

Theo moved the coffee away from him and pointed at the salad bowl. “That depends on the level of stupid.”

“We fought a resurrected, medieval white guy who could transform into a gigantic shadowy werewolf after cyberpunk doctors experimented on a black teenager,” Stiles reminded him sharply.

Isaac pointed at him. “He has a point.”

“Seconded,” Lydia agreed pushing the bowl of salad gently towards Stiles.

Okay, he got the message. Although it’s not like he hadn’t eaten anything today. Before they had left for the station, they had a breakfast in a nearby café. He might be a little off his scheduled lunch, but one could be a little more compliant considering his poor stomach. Then again, he knew his pack. Begrudgingly, Stiles snatched the fork out of Theo’s hand, who was just about to continue the cheesecake. He wiggled his brows. Theo pulled a face and scanned the table for an unused one for before getting to his feet again. “You should’ve brought a second one!” Stiles called after him cackling as he was flipped off without further comment.

As he reached for his coffee, Lydia slapped his hand. “Eat.”

“Yes, _mom_.”

Kira laughed the indignant face of her friend. “I think the reason Theo was saying no,” she continued the interrupted conversation, “was because the death has to be physically possible for a human. Which isn’t quite the case here,  is it?” Way to put a spoke in his wheel. Fantastic, really.

Stiles groaned.

 

“Well shit, mate,” Isaac announced turning around, “that thing’s double locked.” He gave the doorknob a firm jiggle. But neither that nor the door moved an inch. As if the removal of the tag labelling the room wasn’t already a bad omen. Someone seriously didn’t want people to go in there – or whatever’s in there wasn’t supposed to get out. But since Stiles had heard the rumours, he knew that’s not the case. Coming here, he had tried to rent this room but obviously, he wasn’t internet famous enough. However, he had promised Mason to get footage of room B340, so, that’s what he was going to do.   

“We could ask someone,” Scott suggested tentatively.

Stiles didn’t quite know why he hung out with them. Kira and Lydia had, after they had finished their second round of coffee, decided to leave them under the disguise of being tired. He didn’t quite believe her. Rather, he assumed that Kira was in desperate need of a talk between her and Lydia most likely involving Scott. Although their conversation had been relatively easy, Stiles had noticed Kira growing increasingly more uncomfortable, and despite Scott being mostly quiet or busy with his phone, his sole presence took a toll on Stiles, too. All the things they hadn’t talked about were still in the air between them. He tried to be polite, most of the time, even though it wasn’t always easy; and Theo enjoyed the little provocations by simply wrapping his arms around Stiles when they stood somewhere or intertwining their fingers or finding other ways to make sure Scott knew exactly how any form of ultimatum was going to turn out.

“Tried that,” Stiles replied crossing his arms and peeked into the tiny hallway Isaac was still standing in. “Not famous enough.”

Isaac snorted. “Pretty sure you’d be rich enough.”

“I’m not bribing my way into this room.”

“Not saying you should, just that you could.”

Scott frowned. “I thought you’re still studying.”

“I’m trying.” Stiles ran a hand over his upper arm. He didn’t really want to tell Scott about how much money he had or where he had gotten it from in the first place. It’s simply not his business any longer, and it’s not a topic he intended to warm up over and over again. Those concerned knew about it, and they all agreed how he planned on using the money; well, everyone but his father who still told Stiles over and over again that he’d give him back every last penny he had used to pay the bills.

Isaac leaned his shoulder against the wall beside Stiles. “What are we going to do now?”

Theo smirked. “I have ideas but you two are kind of redundant.”

“Oh shu-“ Stiles stopped suddenly turning his head to the left. The door to the stairwell was still open on his request. It made him feel better since room B340 could be found immediately next to it – but now there was a something from the exact opposite of the stairwell, something that led him deeper into these stupid hallways. “Do you smell that?” It’s like this extreme scent of perfume again, the kind that stayed on your tongue. But it tasted different. Kind of. Bitter. Like bittersweet chocolate. But not really. Stiles had no idea how to define that taste. He didn’t like it. Per principle.

“No,” Theo said exchanging a short glance with Isaac. “No, what is it?”

Stiles pulled a face. “Someone's… sad.”

“Sad?” Isaac asked raising a brow.

“Eh, no. Not just sad, it’s more like-“ Stiles took a few hesitant steps in the direction of the emotion, trying to narrow it down. But it barely helped. It was similar to what the boy at the police station had felt, and at the same time different. More intense. Like, like- “Grief.”

Theo stared at him. “Grief?”

“What are you, a tragedy bloodhound?” Isaac joked.

Stiles shot him a look, and the werewolf’s expression swiftly changed into guilt. Just because they didn’t really took this whole problem seriously didn’t mean he could laugh about it. This continued to be fucking disgusting, and he would like to be able to simply shut it off. But he had a hard time not running towards this emotion.

“Okay,” Isaac began again, voice low and words almost hesitant, “you couldn’t do that before. Why is that happening now?”

“He might be more sensitive because he needs it?” Theo suggested grabbing Stiles’ hand as he made another step into the hallway. His fingertips were pressing against his skin underneath his knuckles, making sure he wouldn’t run off on his own all of the sudden. Probably a wise decision, because knowing that his pack had his back despite everything, Stiles’ inhibition were a lot lower – and that scared the crap out of him. But he didn’t need to go looking for it. Whoever carried this emotion, they were coming towards them.  

“He needs what?” Scott asked confused staring at Stiles with wide eyes.

“Chaos,” Theo explained not even bothering to hide his smirk, “strife, pain. The usual.”

“ _What_?”

“Theo,” Isaac whisper-shouted suddenly raising a hand and snapping his fingers for attention. “Werewolf. There’s a werewolf coming this way.”

Without a flicker of hesitation, Theo pulled Stiles away from Scott and behind him. Isaac shifted until he stood at his side. Let them fight and bicker and argue, as soon as shit hit the fan, these two were a surprisingly effective and strong unit. Their fighting styles were compatible. They were ruthless, vicious and ready to do whatever it took to achieve their goal; especially Theo but Isaac was capable of keeping him in check even during a fight. Both were unafraid of pain and not too worried about inflicting it on others.

“Anthony,” Theo breathed moving back immediately. “Go. Go, move.”

Stiles was suddenly yanked around, so quick, he almost faceplanted if he hadn’t been kept upright by Theo, who had to use an astonishing amount of force to get him to move in the first place. Stiles was acutely aware of the sudden stab of pain in his shoulder joint. Before he had any time to complain, however, Isaac was at his back pushing him forward – and before Stiles knew it, they had rushed up the stairs and outside onto the sundeck. It was still raining cats and dogs, thunder and lightning continued to viciously zap around the dark sky. For the second time within twenty-four hours, the rain had him drenched within moments of being outside.

“ _Fuck_.” Theo came to a sudden stop, a second before two women stepped out from behind a wall. Their eyes were glowing yellow, and their claws had already emerged from their nail beds. These two were not fucking around. As they turned around, two more werewolves had cut of their way back, unbeknownst to all of them. Another woman and a young man. Both of them had partly shifted too.

The man wiggled his index finger like he wanted to scold them for their action. “Running from us?”

His female companions sniggered.

Isaac swiftly turned around to shield Stiles’ back from a sudden attack by the female duo. He noted the snick of claws as Scott moved to stand directly at his side. Theo took the spot directly in front of him.

“What handsome group of boys,” the woman opposite them said. Despite her accent being almost impeccable, Stiles noted the slightly off melody in which she spoke. It almost sounded Italian, maybe Spanish. Definitively one of the two. He couldn’t really tell her age. She looked like she was in her mid-twenties, but something about her seemed like she had to be older.

“Now, now,” Anthony emerged surrounded by the grief Stiles had sensed only a few moments ago. “Dinnae scare’em off.” The young man and the possibly Spanish woman simultaneously stepped aside to make way for their alpha. Another emotion forced itself through the grief. No. _Two_. Anger, anger and fear. He couldn’t quite tell who these emotions belonged to; this turned into a fucking cocktail. Stiles had a hunch about the latter, however, especially as the man and woman lowered their gazes the smallest bit. “We need them.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Juuust stopping by to wish you a Happy Easter! (=

“Lassie,” Anthony greeted with a large smile rubbing his hands together, “so we meet again.”  His usually perfectly tailored suit was rumpled. Blood stuck to his white shirt.  A lot of blood.  But it wasn’t splattered, like it should be after a murder. It was nothing more than a large stain on his chest area. Stiles assumed that dismembering a body would cause much more spots than this one. So, what did he do? Cuddle with a dead body?  

And why grief?

“You brought friends,” Stiles noted trying to keep himself from curling his fingers around Theo’s upper arm. Anthony didn’t need to know anything more about the relationships within his pack. He didn’t intend to give him leverage in any shape or form; at least not any more than he already had because of Isaac and Theo’s immediate reaction.

Anthony laughed, but the sound was humourless, cold. Stiles couldn’t help but shudder. These people weren’t his friends. They were his subordinates, his weapons. Lydia’s words snuck back into his mind. _Who is to blame? The inventor, the weapon itself or the one who used it_? Stiles tried to remind himself about the connection between an alpha and their betas. Whatever Anthony told them to do, they might do it whether they wanted to or not. It might not only be about the connection binding them together. Perhaps Anthony had the right _incentive_ , as he had called it this morning. But what did that mean for an attack? Did that mean they should spare them, knock them out? Or should they do whatever it took to stop them?

“Now then,” Anthony continued pushing his wet hair out of his eyes, “Sco’y was so kind tae inform me abou’ this teeny tiny detail abou’ yer love life.”

Stiles froze, and Scott did the same beside him. It took two heartbeats for his reaction, and a third until Isaac made a move. But it was too late then. Stiles had pinned Scott already to the railing, teeth bared, and one hand curled around the nape of his neck forcing him to bend down. “What the _fuck_ is wrong with you?” They stayed a second like this, Scott opening his mouth for a shocked gasp. Then Isaac wrapped an arm around his chest, the other around his waist. He had to lift him off the ground, to steal Stiles every bit of momentum to get him off his former best friend.  

“Chill _out_ ,” Isaac snarled into his ear. “This is not the time for temper tantrums.”

“I didn’t say anything to him!” Scott replied spinning around to face him. “Who do you think I am?”

“Oh, you really don’t want to know,” Stiles sneered a moment before he was dropped between Theo and Isaac. The latter kept a firm hand around his upper arm, then turned to keep his attention back towards the female duo.

“Maybe I should have clarified,” Anthony added with another small chuckle. This was all fun and games for him, trying and tricking to tease the information out of them. “He dinnae tell me directly. I’ was more like me overhearing him complain tae his dear li’le FBI daddy abou’ how he dinnae understand why Stiles is dating Theo.” Although Stiles had attacked him wrongfully, he couldn’t quite swallow his anger. His relationship was nobody’s business but his own, and if Scott continued to twitter about it to other people, people who weren’t even fucking involved in their lives for fucks sake, Stiles would have to go for an extremely stern talking. “So, will the real Theo please raise a hand?”

Nobody moved. Stiles looked over Theo’s shoulder directly at Anthony.

“Silence,” he noted unimpressed. “I know it’s one of ye guys.” His pack didn’t move a muscle as Anthony moved closer to inspect Theo’s as well as Isaac’s faces very closely. If this was supposed to be an intimidation tactic, it wouldn’t work. Theo snarled at him hands curled into tight fists. Isaac bared his teeth, eyes flashing a defiant yellow. With a sigh, Anthony turned around and wrapped an arm around Scott’s shoulder. “Sco’y,” he said, almost like they were old pals, “this is yer chance tae ge’ rid of tha’ thorn in yer side.” He clapped his upper arm. But Scott didn’t reply. He didn’t even look at anybody but his feet. Anthony’s patience, however, ran short. In a flash, he had his fingers tightly curled into Scott’s wet strands and slammed his head against the railing. Blood splattered onto the metal, only to be washed away within seconds, and Scott dropped to the floor.

Theo grabbed his arm a heartbeat before Stiles decided to move.

“I feel like we’re started off on the wrong foo’, Stiles.” Anthony pushed his hands in the pockets of his expensive suit.

“You threatened me.”

“Tha’ was before I knew how useful ye could be.”

“Still not interested.”

Anthony chuckled again. “I’m nae going tae kill yer lover boy.” He cast a quick glance at Scott lying unconscious at his feet, then stepped over his body. “I jus’ wan’ tae ge’ tae know him and trea’ him in a way tha’ shows ye how much I care.”

“Torture,” Theo deadpanned without taking his eyes away from the two werewolves in front of him. “Creative.”

“I could take’em both,” Anthony stated raising both hands for an overdramatic shrug. “And ye’re goin’ tae tell me who Theo is.” That’s all it took for his pack to act. Stiles noted that he didn’t bring _any_ werewolf of his pack. He brought teams. He brought duos having years and years of experience in fighting with each other. It didn’t matter how strong Isaac was or how skilful Theo fought, both went down without much of a chance. Within moments of fighting, Isaac was forced on his knees. The shorter one of the two women crouched behind him, one hand buried in his hair, the other in front of his throat. Her claws were just deep enough to draw first blood. Theo, kneeling on his left-hand side, didn’t look any better. Same position, same outcome.

Stiles could feel something slowly come to life deep inside his chest. As Anthony moved to grab him, Stiles grabbed his wrist – all this anger, all this grief. He took everything. No inhibitions. No fear. The monster inside him grew, moved, snarled – and he finally understood what Kira must have gone through as she struggled with her fox, he finally understood the fight she had to put up to keep it in check. Just that Stiles had no intention of staying in control. “You really have to learn, Anthony,” he said laughing quietly while the tragedy fuelled his void like a shot of adrenaline. “You really have to learn not to make me angry. Cause I might just kill you. I might kill all of you.” Stiles shoved him back then.

Anthony made a step backwards to keep his balance. His eyes lit up in excitement. “Oh, Stiles,” he chirped laughing again; the surprise which had been on his features a second ago had completely vanished. “How much humanity has the nogitsune burned out of ye?”

“Enough to enjoy seeing you choke on your own blood,” Stiles replied offhandedly. “But we had that conversation already.”

Anthony's features darkened. “Enough tae see yer friends die?”

Stiles stiffened. Slowly, he turned to look at Theo. His jaw was set in a defiant line despite his hands being pinned down, despite the blood trickling down his neck. Isaac didn’t look any different. Neither of them was afraid. He would’ve known. He would have felt it. Then Stiles couldn’t be afraid either. “Blackmail,” he stated, but his voice got lost in a thunder overhead. “Blackmail? Do you really think you have any power here at all?” Stiles crossed the little distance they had between each other. “You can puppeteer your pack, but me? _Me_?” He stopped as he heard a scream. It was in his mind as much as it wasn't. Anthony whipped his head around. Stiles could hear nervous shuffling behind him. They recognised the kind of scream. Stiles cocked his head. “You know what that means,” he whispered, and Anthony looked back at him. “Funny, how she screams now and not before you attacked my pack. I wonder why that could be.”

Anthony roared. His fangs and claws snicked free as he grabbed Stiles by the throat and slammed him back against the railing. “She screams now because you dinnae know when tae stop runnin’ yer mouth.” His claws dug into the exposed skin at his throat. It stung, undeniably, and Stiles' hand automatically shot up to grab his wrist.

“You’re not going to kill me,” Stiles replied leaning into the tight grip, which had Anthony pull his claws back. “Because you’re too greedy for power.” Red bled into the steel blue eyes directly in front of him. He had leaned so close by now, that his features were unclear. Stiles bared his teeth in a sharp grin. “Pride, prostitution, wrath and greed. These sins, they’re directed at you, aren’t they?” His grip around Anthony’s wrist tightened. In return, he was pushed harder against the metal railing. “Your pack gets slaughtered because someone wants their revenge on you, and you didn’t care – until now. Who needed to get killed that you changed your mind?”

Anthony’s claws buried themselves into his skin again. For a few moments, he only stared at him. Then he yanked him around and simply threw him to the floor. The kick that followed hit his chest with precision, sent him flying against the metal wall at his back. The back of his head slammed hard against the metal. He felt like a rag doll used in anti-aggression therapies, if said rag doll had feelings – or was human. All it took was one attack from an alpha, _just one_ kick, and Stiles remembered that’s exactly what he was; human. There might be this all-powerful thing underneath his skin, but that didn’t stop his bones from breaking or his skin from splitting. He had blood in his mouth, and he didn’t know where it came from. Maybe he bit his cheek or tongue. Maybe Anthony had ruptured some capillaries in his lungs. Stiles spit the blood to the floor between his arms trying to get to stand up. He felt dizzy and nauseous and his ears were ringing because he had a fucking concussion; that’s something he’s very familiar with.

“And back tae yer fee’, tough guy.” Fingers curled into the back of his shirt. “Ye humans are such pathetic li'le creatures,” Anthony stated grabbing Stiles’ chin as he stood. “Easily breakable. Theo will make himself known, even if I have tae break a few bones tae ge’ there.” He seized Stiles’ hair then contemplating. “Tha’s love for ye. Torture one and both suffer.” As his grip around him vanished, Stiles’ legs did nothing to support him. He dropped to his knees, doubling over in pain and clutching his chest. There was still the taste of metal in his mouth. “Wha’ are we goin’ tae break first?” Anthony asked crouching down beside him.

Stiles spit blood. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the gun in its holster. “Your ego.”

It was hard to tell what hit him – the back of a hand or a fucking wrecking ball for tiny houses. The impact appeared to be the same. Stiles sprawled onto his back. The ringing in his ears getting worse. Anthony appeared beside him. “You really need to be taught a les-“

“ _Anthony_!”

Anthony raised to his feet in one fluent motion. “Satomi,” he said pushing his hands back in the pockets of his pants. Stiles craned his neck. Through the rain, he spotted Satomi, Lydia, Brett, Lori and Kira. “I dinnae remember havin’ ye invited here.” Clenching his teeth, Stiles grabbed the railing and pulled himself up. His chest ached, and he felt like throwing up _again_ , but he managed to stand up – or rather, he managed to slump against the railing. His feet dragged against the wet metal floor.

“I don’t need your invitation if we are on neutral ground,” Satomi’s voice was respectful but even Stiles noticed the clear warning. “And I assume your mind should be occupied with mourning after what happened to your little brother.” Stiles would've laughed if his chest wasn't hurting so much. _Karma is a backstabbing bitch._ And then he startled at his own thoughts. What was he thinking? Someone died. “I also would suggest that you leave Stiles and his friends be. If I remember correctly, your peace with the Hales is tenuous. The remaining members of the family and their affiliates will not take it kindly if you continue to injure them.”

“I don’t follow the rules of a dead woman.”

Satomi folded her hands behind her back. “Let them go, and I’ll tell you who murdered your brother and the other members of your pack.”

Anthony stayed silent for a little while. Stiles wondered what was bigger, his greed for power or his desire for revenge. “I’ll bite,” he decided after a few moments. “Theo stays, the others can leave.”

Stiles whipped his head around. “No,” he said pushing away from the railing. “They leave, I’ll stay.” He was not going to leave Theo with this sick bastard, okay? He would let _nobody_ stay with this monster. Not now, not ever, all right? He’d rather throw himself to the wolves before he put anybody else in danger.

“Stiles, it’s fine.” Everyone turned in the direction of the voice. Isaac had his head raised high as he met Stiles’ eye, who could feel his whole-body freeze with shock. “Just go.” He quickly made eye-contact with Theo, whose features quickly flashed with something akin to surprise, perhaps, before his features morphed back into complete and utter arrogant indifference.

“Shut up,” Stiles snapped making a step towards them, but Anthony stopped him with an outstretched arm.

“It’s okay, really.”

“No, it’s not.”

Anthony looked at Theo for an excruciatingly long moment. Stiles tried to move again, but Anthony wouldn’t let him. Instead he grabbed him by the back of his neck and forced him to bend down. He applied the exact amount of pressure with his claws, that any struggle could result in a painful injury. “You,” he said then very slowly, “look very disinterested.”

Theo turned his head. “I am.” He smirked, and the curve of his lip looked almost cynical.

“Brett,” Anthony called suddenly, “Brett, would you mind joining me for a moment?” He beckoned with his free am. “And the girl from the station. Yeah, you.” Between the platter of rain and the ringing in his ears, Stiles heard two sets of footsteps approaching. A second later, he was basically flung in the arms of Kira, who let out a long breath as she caught him. Her katana dropped to the floor with a few loud clanks. “Now then, Brett, buddy,” Anthony wrapped an arm around the werewolf’s shoulders, but Brett pushed it off only a second later and stepped away, disgust curling around his lips. If Anthony was surprised by the reaction, he didn’t let it show. “I don’t think that’s Theo. Could you clear that up?”

Stiles squeezed his eyes shut. Kira, after making sure he was able to stay on his own for a few moments, crouched down to grab her trusty weapon again. Its blade audibly scraped over the ground.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Anthony continued clapping Brett’s shoulder. “Just go to the one who isn’t Theo or I’m going to kill both.”

It took a flutter of a heartbeat, and Brett moved. Stiles opened his mouth to say something, but his thought got lost as his instincts set in. Theo watched every single step Brett took towards them and continued watching as he passed him. The female holding Isaac down, pulled her hands back. One free. One to go. Stiles shifted and grabbed the blade of the katana only inches from underneath the handle. Kira shrieked in surprise and let go of it. He saw his blood fall to the ground, but he didn’t feel the pain as his skin sliced open. Without a second thought, Stiles switched the katana in his right hand, grasping the handle tightly. Someone yelled his name. He didn’t know who did, didn’t know who would right now – it happened faster than he could process, and he deep down he knew he wanted it to happen but part of him was sensible, part of him knew they could solve this differently. Maybe, they could even walk away after Satomi had told Anthony who the killer was. Maybe Theo was just leverage in case she was trying to bluff. But the bigger part of him, the one he didn’t know how to control, the part that harboured this desire to inflict pain, to take pain, to make sure that _nobody_ touched his pack ever again – this part won.

Stiles moved swiftly. In one fluent motion, he grabbed Anthony’s shoulder who turned with raised brows. His lips parted for whatever words he intended to throw his way. But his mouth formed a surprised _o_ as the katana cut through skin and large intestine. Stiles had it tilted upwards and to the left, so the blade sliced through kidney, liver and, if he was lucky, even the pancreas. Anthony didn’t cry out or screamed or let out any sound of pain. But the woman that had held Isaac did. It was a guttural, primal scream fuelled with sheer rage.

However, he wasn’t attacked.

Stiles yanked the katana out of him, and Anthony sank to his knees. The inflicted wound wouldn’t kill a werewolf, especially not an alpha. But the katana of a thunder kitsune did a lot more damage than any other weapon could have. “You should have listened to me,” Stiles said in a very low voice. For a moment, he didn’t know if Anthony had heard him. But his eyes flicked upwards to meet his, still wide in surprise – and they grew even wider as Stiles grabbed his throat. “I told you,” he continued cocking his head slightly to the side. “I told you not to make me angry; yet here you are threatening my pack.” He shifted his grip on the katana reaching back a little. “Nobody does that and gets away with it. Do you understand?”

Anthony’s features arranged themselves. “Then do it.”

“Oh, I will.”

“ _Stiles, don’t!_ ” Her voice made a clear cut through the haze, and he froze. A moment later, someone grabbed his arm pulling him away from Anthony, away from what he was about to do. The katana was gently taken out of his hand, and Stiles felt a small touch at the small of his back. He glanced over his shoulder, saw Kira smiling at him. But the smile didn’t reach her eyes. Then he looked at Lydia, who stood there beside Satomi, one hand still raised and a foot in front of the other like she had attempted to run and didn’t.

Slowly, Stiles’ gaze travelled up the arm close to him, from the hand grabbing his wrist to the face looking down at him with a mixture of surprise and determination. Brett tugged at him, firmer now, and Stiles looked away, back to Anthony.

“He’ll be dealt with,” the woman, who had held Theo down, said offhandedly. She wasn’t looking at him, however, but her alpha. It was now that Stiles finally took in the whole scene. The werewolf who had screamed was pinned to the ground by the other two of the pack. The only male forced her to watch Anthony. Theo stood beside them, his eyes locked on Stiles – and for the longest time, they couldn’t look away from each other. The indifference had left his features. His eyes were narrowed, and his lips curled in a cold, humourless smile. Something dislodged in Stiles’ chest, hot and painful, travelling up to his throat. His breathing caught on it. He wanted to laugh, but he didn’t. He wanted to say something, but his voice didn’t follow his orders. Instead his lips parted, releasing a breath.

_Why didn’t you stop me?_

_Why do you just stand there?_

But he knew the answer. Theo would’ve let him. Because Theo was okay with murder.

The sound of a gurgle and something wet and soft hitting the floor pulled his attention away from Theo. Stiles looked in the direction of where the sound came from. Everything seemed to happen in slow-motion. Anthony locked eyes with him. He had one hand wrapped around his throat which didn’t do jack shit to stop the blood from coming out, and something on his features told Stiles that he didn’t understand what had just happened. He exhaled, and the light in his eyes went out, like someone flipped a switch. The woman stepped away as his body simply fell forward. Stiles half expected him to catch himself, to raise his hands in order to soften the impact. But nothing happened. Anthony hit the ground, and his blood pooled underneath him staining the otherwise clean walkway.

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Stiles registered that the RMS Queen Mary just claimed another body.

 

“So, it was the emissary?” Isaac asked rubbing down his hair with a small towel.

“Yeah,” Lori replied. She had put her short, wet hair in a simple bun constantly pushing the loose strand behind her ears. “She was the late alpha’s, uh, late-late alpha’s wife.” As she said it, she shivered despite wearing one of her big brother’s thick lacrosse sweatshirt which fell to her knees when she stood. But Stiles noticed it too. It was cold in this room despite the radiator being turned to full capacity. Lori pulled the blanket tighter around her stomach. Stiles subconsciously mimicked this gesture.

“How’d you find out?” Lydia asked. She was wearing a second set of clothes she had brought, just like most of the rest of the pack, and had her hair wrapped up in a towel. Together with Kira, Lori and Isaac, they had squeezed on the sofa made for three. Kira was sitting on Isaac’s thigh and had her legs over Lydia’s, who tugged and smoothed down the blanket thrown over the two of them.

Brett shrugged. Since he had given his sweatshirt to his sister, he wore his lacrosse jersey and shorts which looked hardly warm enough given the circumstances. “We didn’t know about the change in alpha,” he explained propping his foot up on the armrest of the chair Stiles was sitting in. “So Satomi contacted the old emissary to tell him that Anthony was presumably harassing a human under the protection of the Hale family-“

“I’m not under anyone’s pro-“

“Like is said,” Brett continued completely ignoring Stiles’ objection, “most people have enough respect, so they aren’t fucking with them. The Ryland’s used to do that, too; although the two families didn’t agree on much, Adam Ryland held the Hales in high respect. Being a born werewolf means a lot to some people because they barely exist anymore.” He ran his fingers through his hair, frowning as he needed to tug on the wet strands to untangle them. “But Anthony doesn’t care.” A short silence followed his words, and he shook his head. “Didn’t care,” he corrected himself then. “Like I told you multiple times, Stiles.” Brett turned towards him then, eyes narrowed.

Stiles pulled the blankets tighter around him. Although Theo had offered him his second hoodie as well, he had declined it and instead accepted the two blankets Lydia and Kira practically wrapped him up in. His second set of clothes was wet now, too, so he wore only his sweatpants and tee he was sleeping in. Thankfully, because he really wouldn’t have wanted to be completely naked while being wrapped up in blankets and was amidst of his pack, Brett and Lori. “Yeah, I understood it the first time.”

“I saw,” Brett deadpanned. “You really kept your distance.”

“It’s not like we chose to be in that situation,” Isaac muttered defensively.

“But Stiles _chose_ to try and blackmail Anthony at the police station, didn’t he?” Brett put his foot on the ground and leaned forward, then back again crossing his arms. His eyes flitted to the left for a brief moment. Stiles didn’t need to check who he was looking at.

Theo was the only one standing, and he seemed detached from everyone because he neither stood close to the sofa nor did he stand next to Stiles. Since they had a short conversation with the new alpha of Long Beach, which Stiles only partly remembered because Satomi had done most of the talking, he hadn’t said a word to him or anybody in the room. But despite his silence, his presence was heavy with something unspoken. He seemed angry, his shoulders tense. Stiles noticed the small movements of his clenched jaw, like he was chewing on something small. It was a clear indication of barely contained rage.

But it was Stiles who had every reason to be pissed. Theo knew exactly that he was still struggling with Donovan, that he was still struggling with the guy he had killed during the Deadpool. Yet, he didn’t raise a hand to stop him. Stiles didn’t understand why Theo hadn’t moved, why Theo hadn’t been the one to stop him. Was he really that okay with murder that he didn’t care if Stiles wasn’t okay afterwards?

“I asked you a question,” Brett reminded him.

“No, no-“ Stiles waved his hand in the general direction of the room, then turned to look at him with a raised brow. “You said ‘he’ which meant the general audience.”

“Don’t be a smartass.”

“We were stuck at the case, I had to do something,” Stiles replied massaging his temple. He hissed as his fingers brushed up against the bruise on his cheek. Luckily, the damage at his chest had fully healed – but that had used up all the juice his spark had gathered from Anthony. It wasn’t quite enough for a full recovery which left him with a bruised cheek and faint marks of claws at his throat. They looked as if they were days old, but they were still visible.

And some part of him wished he was still in pain.

Brett scoffed. “I don’t know what you expected to happen.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “How did she do it?” He asked instead.

Lori looked at Brett who got to his feet in a sudden movement. He briskly walked out from between the corner of the room the sofa and the armchair formed. Theo cocked a brow, and again this weird almost cynical twitch of his lips happened. Stiles hadn’t seen it in a long time, and he watched closely as Theo turned his head to look at Isaac who pressed his lips into a thin white line. “Daevas,” Brett replied casually checking their clothes. They put it on the radiator barely half an hour ago. No way in hell they were even close to dry. “Shadow demons. Cressida, the wife, found a way to control them and used them to kill Anthony’s pack to make him feel her pain, yadda yadda yadda.” He peaked into the bedroom where Scott was still passed out.

“Oh, could you sound any more bored?!” Lori hissed.

“Stiles, how are you feeling?” Lydia asked stopping to smooth the blanket. Isaac peaked around Kira’s upper arm to look at him.

“Headache,” he replied clipped.

 She pursed her lips. “That’s not what I was talking about.”

“Oooh,” he drawled crossing his arms over the blankets cocking a brow. “Are you talking about the stuff you didn’t deem important enough and just shrugged it off? Because I’m pretty sure that’s still an issue.” Although he knew antagonising anybody didn’t exactly work in his benefit in the current state and time, he wasn’t quite able to keep his mouth shut either. He had warned them. He had told them that he thought something was wrong, they had dismissed him.

Isaac cleared his throat. “How do you think one could tackle this issue?”

Stiles ran a hand along his throat and shrugged. “What do I know, right?”

“Don’t be pissed now,” Lydia snapped.

“I’m not pissed,” Stiles replied jiggling his leg. “But you lot obviously know better than me anyway. So, why are you asking me? Pretty sure you already have everything planned out.” He didn’t know if it was the tension in the room that was edging him on or if it simply was something he needed to get out of his system in the first place.

Theo turned around to look at him, eyebrow cocked.

“Stiles,” Lydia began, tone warning.

“You know I’m right!” He snapped freeing himself from the blankets he was wrapped up in and jumped to his feet. “I don’t know how Isaac could stand it, but I hated the last two weeks. I couldn’t walk anywhere on my own. I couldn’t even make any decisions on my own.” He grabbed the shoes he’d discarded somewhere near the bedroom and slipped into them.

“Hey, where are you going?” Kira asked suddenly alarmed.

Stiles completely ignored her. “I had to fight tooth and nail to be allowed to drive here for a single fucking night with Liam, Mason and Corey; and when I tell you something is wrong, you don’t take me serious.” It was like Scott all over again, who ignored every warning he had issued. His instincts might not always be completely correct, but he had never been wrong when it had come down to the serious shit – and yet everyone still considered he was paranoid about things. As if they shouldn’t know better by now. He rushed in the bedroom, not caring if he woke up Scott or not, and snatched his backpack.

When he stepped back out, Theo walked in his way and grabbed his arm. “Where do you think you’re going?” It’s the way he said it, possessive, almost feral, that made Stiles even angrier than he had been before.

“Don’t _touch_ me,” he snapped using both hands to push him away.

Theo took a step back. “Calm down.”

“I told you,” Stiles all but yelled pushing Theo further away. Again, he took a step back, probably more to keep his temper in check than because he had to. “They all brushed it off, but you-“ He jabbed his finger in Theo’s face, who narrowed his eyes- “you don’t care, do you?”

The air was cold where it met his body, but the tension was fire burning on his skin. Theo tried to keep his face straight. The flash in his eyes didn’t go unnoticed, however. “Stiles-“

“ _Tell me_!”

Theo wetted his lips, and for a moment, he seemed almost nervous. It was answer enough, but Stiles needed to hear it although the knowledge was curling a tight fist around his throat, suffocating him. He _needed_ him to care. If he didn’t care, Stiles had no idea how to get through this. He knew he had his pack, he knew, he had the others, but if Theo didn’t care whether he was drowning or not- what’s the point? Stiles lowered his hands as Theo lowered his gaze. “Tell me you care.”

“Stiles-“ He heard it in the sound of his voice, and he saw it in the way his eyes couldn’t quite meet his own until his lips parted again. “It doesn’t matter to me.”

He had heard these words before. A different circumstance but essentially the same. Stiles backed away slowly. Theo curled and uncurled his hands contemplating whether to grab him or let him walk away further. There’s this small cynical smile again, almost like he had known the second Stiles had come down from his high, the second they had made eye contact after he had almost killed Anthony. Theo hadn’t stopped him. He hadn't even thought about stopping him.

“It matters to me.”

 

Near the exit of the ship, Stiles had found an old almost empty storage room. Concerning the dust which had collected on both the ground and the benches and tables you’d put in a beer tent as well as the round table tops, this room hadn’t been opened in forever; hence why he was surprised it wasn’t even locked. Stiles was relieved, for the first time, that Mason had insisted on bringing a towel _just in case_. Because you never had towels in a goddamn hotel suite. But, whatever. He used it as a blanket now, sitting in the corner of the room listening to music so loud his thoughts were drowned out.

Stiles didn’t know how long he was sitting in the room when the door opened. He flinched as light flooded the otherwise completely dark room. His heart dropped for a moment. He didn’t know if he was allowed to be in here, but as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he recognised Theo. Lowering his head onto his knees, he stared at the shadow stretching to touch his bare feet. Since his shoes were still wet, he had discarded them and his socks after he had created his little lair here.

The shadow slowly vanished until the door was shut, and they were plunged in complete darkness again. He sensed Theo sitting down beside him, arms touching as he slid down the wall. Nothing else happened for a few seconds, until fingertips brushed up his arm leaving goose bumps in their wake. A hand cupped his cheek, and Stiles leaned into the touch craving the contact although he knew he didn’t deserve it. Not right now, at least.

With a gentle tug, Theo removed both of his earbuds. The music didn’t cut off then, instead continued playing in horrible quality; beats scratching and bumping, distorted because of the distance between the output and his ears. “You matter to me.” His lips were close enough that Stiles could feel the words being formed against his cheek.

He swallowed heavily around another lump in his throat; or maybe it was his heart trying to stop him from talking. “Don’t make this hard.”

Theo brushed his lips over his cheek, trailed an invisible line down his throat. Stiles let out a breathless moan as Theo dug his fingers into his thighs. “I don’t understand what is happening.” The words were wet against his Adam’s apple, painted on his skin.

Stiles ran his thumb along the shell of Theo’s ear before grabbing his hair, unsure if to pull him away or press him closer. “Having you love me unconditionally,” he whispered gently tugging at his hair, and he moved up and back to his mouth not kissing, but he was so close, they might as well be, “was enough for me.” He pressed his lips together nudging Theo’s nose with his. “But I can’t hate myself and be loved by someone who doesn’t care what a monster I am.” Theo shuddered against him, and Stiles swore he heard something like a choked sob. But it was so quiet, and the music was still on. Maybe it was nothing more but his imagination, and maybe he hoped he wouldn’t be the only one seconds away from crying. “I have to learn how to deal with this,” he whispered, voice cracking in all the wrong places, “and I have to do it on my own.”

Theo didn’t kiss him like he understood a single word of what he had said. Perhaps he understood everything but refused to accept it. He kissed him like he had touched him back at the suite. Feral. Possessive. Stiles melted against him, wishing he wouldn’t. But he parted his lips, and Theo growled deep in his throat. The kiss broke, and Stiles chased his mouth – muscle memory, habit, _something_. Theo laughed, and he pulled him away from the wall climbing on top of him. Stiles was on his back then. His head hit the floor with a distant thud. He felt the shadow of pain, the distant reminder of it. But Theo sunk blunt human teeth into the crook of his neck, and his hips bucked up.

He heard a snick of claws, the tear of fabric. Stiles curled his free hand into the short strands, spread his legs. Theo pinned him down with his teeth, biting down hard enough to leave marks. They were grinding against each other, frantic, hectic. There was no finesse in their movements, only greed, need, a quick way for pleasure. This wasn’t how they usually slept with each other, and that made it more real.

Stiles forced his hands between their bodies, fumbling with Theo’s belt, his button, his zipper while Theo licked a trail up to his jaw sucking at the skin just underneath it. Neither of them gave a damn about marks, about hierarchy, about what anything meant any more. Stiles only pushed Theo’s pants down enough until he had unrestricted access to his dick. He wrapped his fingers around him, dragging his thumb over the head. Theo moaned against his throat, loud enough that anyone passing the door most likely would’ve heard them.

The door stayed shut.

Theo sunk his teeth into the crook of his neck again. This time, Stiles noticed a hint of fang. His own lips parted for a breathless moan, and he wanted to kiss him, but he needed something to hold on to while he was continuing to jack Theo off. At this point, he didn’t give a shit about it being good. He wanted it to be effective; and Theo bucked his hips in his hand, heavy breathing interrupted by moans pressed into his skin.

“I need you to fuck me.” Theo growled again, and his fingers dug painfully into his waist. Feeling him lose control was the hottest thing, Stiles had seen in forever. There was something temptingly wrong about this feral behaviour, and he wanted him to cling on to the shreds of control when they were both at their most vulnerable.

Theo licked the abused skin, a shudder running through his body again. “No lube.”

His lips quirked into a small smirk. “I’m working on that,” Stiles breathed, twisting his wrist and swiping his thumb over his slit again.

“Fuck, _fuck_ ,” Theo cussed. He hooked two fingers into the waistband of his boxers and sweatpants, yanking both down at the same time. Stiles shuddered as the cold air hit him. Theo captured his lips in a bruising kiss and grabbed his wrist stilling his movements. One moment they were kissing, and the next Theo turned him around and pulled him onto all fours. Stiles never liked this position, hated the lack of intimacy, how he couldn’t properly kiss him or lock eyes with him. But he didn’t care, not right now. Instead, he tried to feel less awkward about Theo jacking off behind him. This wasn’t thought through properly.

He couldn’t care less, however, as Theo slipped the first finger in. It’s not quite comfortable, a little too dry, too fast. But Theo bunched his shirt up to get access to his back, kissing and sucking on his skin, biting, leaving marks Stiles would carry for days. He added another finger, grazing his prostate now and then and in-between. It wasn’t much teasing, something Theo usually enjoyed doing, something he did to drag the act out. But neglected to do now. Stiles squeezed his eyes shut. It’s what he wanted. Still, the reality of it burned.

Theo bit down harder, breaking skin. Stiles bucked his hips, covered his mouth. His other hand seized the towel, nails scraping over the dusty floor. A flicker of anger surrounded them for a few seconds, sinking into his skin wherever Theo touched him. Stiles’ spark consumed it greedily. And his consciousness was disgusted by it. His concentration was slipping, regret building.

His pants and boxers were hastily yanked off completely. Hands grabbed his waist, tight, nails sinking into his skin. Theo flipped him around, almost clumsily and unrefined. His back hit the floor with a thud, but the escaping groan was captured by a bruising kiss. It didn’t last long. Knuckles brushed up against his thigh in quick succession, up and down, up, down. Theo's breath ragged, heavy. His free hand, grasping the towel next to his head, twitched. Stiles wanted to see him, although the darkness felt like a safety blanket.

When Theo finally pushed in, he did it slow, inch by inch, only moved when Stiles relaxed. Every time a gasp of pain was about to leave his slightly parted lips, Theo was there, kissing it away. Sometimes, a hint of fang nicked his bottom lip. Other times, Theo hissed something under his breath, his grip vicelike around his hips, a hint of claw catching on skin. As every inch of him was finally buried deep inside him, they both moaned, then laughed breathlessly – like nothing else was as funny as their synchronicity.

Slowly, gently, lovingly, Theo rolled his hips. He kissed the corner of his mouth, a smile pressing into his skin. For a moment, everything felt like it was about to right itself, like nothing was wrong. Theo made him feel good, like less of a monster. But this wasn't what he wanted. He followed the line of Theo’s arm, using his nails to drag them up and further up until he found the back of his head. Knotting his fingers into the short strands, Stiles seized his head back eliciting a snarl. “I said _fuck_.”

Theo growled, deep and low and warning; a sound travelling straight to his groin. Stiles was embarrassed at it, but at the same time, he wasn’t – being far too needy to care that much about it. Theo laughed almost humourlessly. “As you wish,” he whispered leaning back down. “ _Alpha_.” The mocking tone made Stiles yank at his hair again. Theo grabbed his hand and pinned it beside his head. Yellow burned above him, a predator in the darkness, then a hand wrapped around his throat. Slowly, he rolled his hips back until the only thing inside of him was the tip. Neither didn’t move for a second, and all Stiles could see was Theo’s eyes glowing in the darkness. Then, after seconds dragged on, Theo snapped his hips forward.

His lips parted for a moan, breathless, more punched out of him than anything else. He felt the sensation in every nerve ending, felt it vibrating up his spine. It’s the rhythm Theo kept, slow but hard thrusts. He started to push back, meet him halfway. Stiles didn’t quite recall when he became vocal enough that Theo decided to press a hand over his mouth, and he bent down to suck at his already abused skin.

There was nothing gentle about it. Theo, ever so slowly picking up his pace, chased something without a name, left marks with his nails and his mouth and his teeth on every spot he could reach, so that anyone who would look at him knew that Stiles wasn’t to be touched unless ready to face consequences. He left marks that screamed ownership. There was something so wrong about it, Stiles knew it was right, and he hated that he couldn’t leave any marks on Theo, that he couldn’t engrave a visible claim on his body.

Theo kept a firm hold on him while continuing to fuck him hard enough, Stiles would feel it tomorrow. His eyes fluttered shut, and he was clawing at his shirt, his hair, his back; holding on to everything he could find. Stiles heard the hitch in his breath, noticed how Theo lost his rhythm suddenly – and he came, hips snapping forward, slamming deep. It was the point he lost it, and bit down hard enough to draw blood. _“Fuck_ ,” Stiles cussed. It fucking _hurt_ because Theo wasn’t draining his pain this time. “ _Bastard_.”

Theo chuckled as he pulled out, leaving Stiles empty and still needing more. “I did what you wanted me to do.”

“ _You_ -“

“Relax,” Theo breathed brushing his nose against his cheek. “Just a second.” He grabbed his hips travelling slowly down and further down his body, kissing and sucking and teasing – taking his sweet fucking time before finally wrapping a hand around his neglected dick and sucking the tip into his mouth. He didn’t do much teasing, got straight to the point. Stiles covered his mouth, closed his eyes. His hips bucked into Theo’s tight grip around him. If he weren’t so desperate to come, he would’ve been embarrassed that it didn’t took much more than Theo’s mouth around him before he climaxed. There wasn’t anytime to warn him. He arched his back, gritting his teeth as he came. Theo kept his mouth on him, until Stiles hissed and yanked his head back.

He ignored Theo’s quiet laugh, but kissed him back just as fiercely, tasting himself and Theo, hating that this was it.

That this was the end.

They collected themselves in silence. Theo discarded the towel in the first trashcan he spotted while Stiles regarded his reflection. As expected, there was a hickey blooming underneath his jaw, and the edge of Theo’s bite was peeking out from underneath his collar. Stiles licked his finger to rub the blood away, but some of it had been absorbed by his collar. He ran his hand over his throat catching hazel eyes watching him. This was the point in which they had to say it out loud, in which they had to make it real. Stiles cast his backpack at the corner of the entrance before pushing the door open to step outside. He liked to pretend that he stepped out in the rain, so most of the smell would wash off. But when his fingers curled around the railing, and he bowed his head to look down to the water, he couldn’t even think about pretending. Stiles didn’t want Theo to see him cry, and, even though part of him knew that it was an unlikely scenario, he didn’t want to see him cry either.

Theo propped himself up on the railing. The distance between them felt unusually huge, but for an outsider they would look like two friends standing in the pouring rain. “So,” Theo started in an almost neutral tone, “are we breaking up now?”

Stiles tried his hardest not to choke up. “It’s better to draw a line.”

“That’s it then? I can’t do anything?”

Stiles shook his head, not trusting his voice right now. He didn’t want to say it outright, but he knew this was the sensible thing to do.

“I’m supposed to just let you go?”

Stiles bit his bottom lip. He wished it could be different, but he had- he couldn’t. Not when Theo didn’t mind, not when he loved the part of him that disgusted Stiles. If there was a way, he would cut it out of himself. “Just until I’ve fixed this,” he whispered curling his hands into tight fists. “I can’t ask you to wait, tho.”

“You don’t have to.”

Stiles looked at him pretending the drop of water running down his cheek was a tear. He wished Theo would show any kind of emotion instead of simply shutting down. “Satomi- she seems to know something about... about me.” Stiles looked to the water underneath them again; he couldn’t bear to see Theo’s indifferent expression. “So, I was thinking I’ll drive home with her.”

Theo gave a one shoulder shrug. “It's your decision.”

“Okay.” Nothing was okay. Absolutely fucking nothing was even close to okay. How could he simply stand there staring into the distance while Stiles was struggling not to break down right next to him? Did he think this was making it easier for him? For them? For anybody? “I guess we should go back to the others then.” As Theo only nodded, Stiles pushed himself away from the railing. He wanted to scream, but he didn’t. He wanted to slap him, but he didn’t do that either. Instead he grabbed his backpack and tried his best not to run.

They walked back in silence. Stiles in the front, Theo trailing behind. Funny, how this trip started out easy going, how a couple hours ago everything was fine. Ironic, that it needed someone like Anthony to open Stiles’ eyes. Then again, maybe he should’ve noticed earlier that something wasn’t quite right with him. Maybe if he hadn’t ignored the signs, it wouldn’t have come this far.

Theo opened the door to their suite with the key card, then stepped aside to let Stiles enter first. Isaac noticed them immediately since he was sitting on the armchair opposite the door. He perched up in his seat. Stiles took a deep, steadying breath before managing to step into the suite. Theo followed him wordlessly. Nobody said a word either. Brett and Isaac were both watching Stiles, while Lori was tracking Theo's movements. Suddenly, Stiles was hyperaware of the marks on his body, and he ran a hand over his throat again.

Brett raised his brows.

Scott and Kira stepped out of the bedroom. They were standing closer than before, but Kira kept her arms crossed protectively over her chest, and Scott had his hands pushed deep in the pockets of his jeans.

Lydia jumped up from the sofa. “Stiles-“

He cleared his throat. “It's fine,” he said although it wasn't, and Theo’s scoff told him that his heartbeat exposed his lie.

“What happened?” Brett asked crossing his arms and straightening his back.

“Nothing that concerns _you_ ,” Theo shot back instantly, and there was an edge to his voice Stiles knew all too well.

“ _Theo_ -“

“Shut up,” he snarled grabbing Stiles' upper arm. “This changes nothing.” His grip tightened slightly but stayed manageable. It wasn’t meant to hurt, just to make sure he didn’t slip away. “I don’t accept this.” Anger. That’s Theo’s way of displaying hurt. That’s his way of showing how much he cared. Seeing him do it in front of so many people made everything so much more intense.

“Don’t do this, please.”

“You can’t decide this on your own.”

“This isn’t a debate,” Stiles replied pulling his arm back.

Theo let go of him instantly. He looked like he wanted to say something else, but he didn’t. Instead he glanced over Stiles’ shoulder. A cruel smile curled around his lips. In the flicker of a heartbeat, he grabbed him by the nape of his neck and kissed him. Stiles made a sound in the back of his throat, and his hands came up as if he wanted to push him away; but in the end, he simply curled his fingers into the wet fabric of Theo's jumper. His eyes fluttered shut as he kissed him back.

Until logic kicked in.

“No.” Stiles was parts angry and parts exhausted. First, he acted like he couldn’t give a shit about the whole thing, and now he pretended to be the biggest douchebag in fucking California. “You don’t get to do that.” He finally scrambled enough willpower together to push him away.

Theo’s eyes flitted back to him. “I don’t take rejection very well.”

Stiles pursed his lips. “You’re not making it very hard to reject you right now.”

Theo scoffed reaching out to touch him, but Stiles slapped his hand away. “Fine,” Theo said in a very low voice. “Have it your way.” He turned on his heels with another withering look directed at someone standing behind Stiles. “I’m going for a walk. Maybe it’s better if we don’t see each other for a while.”

Stiles straightened his shoulder. “Yeah, maybe it is.” He would not cry. Not in front of Theo. Not in front of anyone.

“Theo, wait.” Kira crossed the room. She was the only one moving, and as she passed Stiles, her hand brushed over his arm. She smiled at him. “I’ll come with you.” The door had fallen shut before she finished speaking, but she followed him anyway leaving a confused Scott behind.

His levelled breathing was the only thing Stiles heard for a while. “What happened?” Lydia asked wrapping her fingers gently around his wrist.

“Nothing,” Stiles replied numb. “It's fine.”

 

“Are you sure about this?” Jordan watched the thick storm clouds curl around the mountain in the distance. The lightning strikes aggressively warned those daring to approach.

Stiles swallowed around the lump in his throat. “I’m out of options.”

Jordan tightened his grip on the steering wheel, still not looking at Stiles. “You should have told them.”

“I told them I found someone who can teach me control.” Stiles’ grip on the door handle became vicelike. “And that I’ll be coming back,” he added although he didn’t know who he was trying to convince with these words; perhaps it was directed at them both – or perhaps Stiles only tried to give himself more courage than he had so he’d finally get out of the car. Because if he didn’t leave soon, he’d never go through with it.

As Jordan finally moved to meet his eye, Stiles wished he hadn’t. In his expression, he saw everything he had been too afraid to see; worry, fear, sorrow – every single reason he had noted for himself to remind him not to tell the others, especially not Theo and his father. They wouldn’t have let him go.

“You don’t even have a weapon.”

“You taught me how to fight.”

Jordan shook his head. “Not against whatever’s in there.”

Stiles took a deep breath. “I’ll come back, I promise.” His voice was cracking slightly, and he pressed his lips into a tight line.

“Stiles-“ Jordan clenched his jaw and squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them again, Stiles forced himself to look away. He couldn’t bear to see Jordan like this. Not him. Stiles had asked him because he thought he was the only person who wouldn’t make it that hard to leave. “Do you have everything?”

Stiles cleared his throat, then nodded and opened his backpack for what felt like the hundredth time. They were both stalling for time. “Water, clothes, food-“ He pushed the jumper aside he had stolen from Theo before he had left a day ago- “wait, what the fuck is that?” Underneath the jumper was a small black tote bag with something hard inside of it. He pushed the backpack to the floor between his feet and turned the bag upside down. The contents spilling onto his lap were a belt, which he knew all too well, and a neatly folded note. Furrowing his brows, Stiles unfolded it.

 

_I expect, you’ll bring this back to me._  
_Love, Kira_

 

Stiles squeezed the note feeling a small smile slip onto his lips. “Tell her she shouldn’t expect anything else,” he whispered pressing the paper in Jordan’s hand, who nodded but stayed silent while Stiles was gathering his things. After he had gotten out of the car, Jordan leaned over the passenger’s seat to look at him.

“I just got used to having two stubborn, annoying delinquents as little brothers,” he explained in a voice barely any more stable than his expression. “I’ll better see you soon, kiddo.”

Stiles nodded. “You bet.” But as the door falling shut cut through the silence of the vast desert landscape, he couldn’t ignore the fear creeping back up on him. This quest had only two possible outcomes: he’d learn control, or he’d die trying. Either way, his pack was going to be save from him.

And that’s the thought which kept him going.

As he reached the cliff’s edge, Stiles chanced a glance over his shoulder. Jordan was still waiting, maybe hoping he wouldn’t go through with it after all. Determined, Stiles flicked his wrist forcing the katana to take form.

Then he jumped off the cliff. 


End file.
